hey mr. you're on fire

Thanks to the Boyanetta commercial, i have been reunited with the song "in for the kill" skream remix by la roux.
So, now i am listening to it very quietly as i tip-tap away with a sleeping Tiffany right next to me.
She seems to be in a pretty deep drug induced slumber, thanks neocitran, thanks for everything.

La Roux is another band you're not too proud of enjoying, what's new

I keep looking over at my purple lava lamp on the night table and it makes me want to write something metaphoric
Ew

I'm sick again, i dropped my new phone in a toilet, and i'm back to the exact same spot i was 2 weeks ago.
Sick, and phone less.
r e w i n d i n g

Moving forward,
today's issue mulls around the wonderment of "drive."
and how i am terribly lacking there of.
This simple characteristic, this very practical and useful word, is absent from my life, and i guess i'm just wondering, WHY ME?

If i had drive, i would have done well in school, i would have a learners permit or a drivers licence,
i would have a better job, i wouldn't be living at home, i would have better social skills, i would have upgraded, i would have made more music, i would have played some shows, i would have a broader social life, i would have made more friends, i would have kept some old ones, i would have tried harder, i'll try harder, i'll try harder, i'll try harder, i'll try harder

I could blame this on being lazy.
Look everyone, i guess i've come to terms, you're right and this is all me being a lethargic piece of shit

Sorry mom, Sorry god.

I wish i had a passion, or a hobby or an interest other than sleeping and watching TV.
Literally.
I wish i was interesting i wish i could offer something more than just played out run to the ground jokes and facial expressions and an attitude i haven't changed since i hit puberty.
I wish i knew cool facts, i wish i could remember things better, i wish i could smoke weed,
i wish i had a spine, i wish i had guts, i wish i knew how to throw a punch, i wish i had rhythm, i wish i had special skills, i wish i was talented, i wish i was artistic, i wish i was creative, i wish i was weird, i wish i could type properly, i wish i could absorb information like the average person, i wish i was quick witted, i wish i was a naturally nice person, i wish i knew one word to sum up "naturally nice person" but i don't.
i wish i could be selfless, i wish i could go a day without irritability, i wish i cared about more things other than dying and eating, i wish i brought more to the table, i wish i was more transparent, i wish i could relate, i wish i liked to read, i wish i knew how to start and end conversations, i wish i had a bigger vocabulary so i could at least make myself sound more interesting.

I'm just a boring person i guess, I have to fake and force everything, while nothing comes naturally.

We've all committed self fulfilling prophecies, and although perhaps you've never heard the term itself, everyone has done the crime and we're all doing the time.
I know that i'm sentenced to life and i guess being more aware of it actually just ends up sucking more, and makes this whole ordeal even more horrible.

My biggest problem i think beside the aforementioned, is that not only did i fulfill my own negative depressing prophecies i've laid out for myself, but i've listen to everyone else's on top of it.
All i hear is that i'm creative and i'm good at music and i'm going to "make it" and that i'll be famous one day, or maybe i'll be a writer or a poet.
So my whole life i've listen to it, and i've been waiting for me to do something amazing.
In fact, i've gambled my future on it.
I thought, everyone seems to think i'll make a name for myself and be up there.
So, naturally, i know how to make that happen.
It's going to happen, i'll locate the catalyst, i'll kick start the engine, i'll go with the inevitable flo that is the reliable current leading to the amazing dream-come-true outcome of the rest of my very complete life.
Any day now.
Go write a book. Start a band. Create something. Do SOMETHING.

And all this time if been struggling to differentiate what i THINK i should be doing with my life, and what other people TELL me i'm doing with my life.
It's actually created a whole inner conflict within myself and i don't even know what i really think anymore.
What do i even like to do?

I mean it's actually come to that.
Maybe my forte is really a librarian. Or a travel agent.

I'm really not creative i guess, but i guess i give off this vibe or notion that i am, or that people should think i am, and then i have to fake it, and i avoid it, and end up doing something like this.
Sitting in my room at 3am writing shitty things that just make me feel sad.

I'm not even doing a good job at explaining this even, i lack the correct big words to describe in detail how i feel.
Writing should come easy to writers.

"love, my name
love, left dry
wait, don't cry
skeleton me"

I should be enjoying this but i'm not i don't enjoy anything except like i told you sleeping and watching TV


Sorry mom, sorry god