Reblogged from The Art Of Animation

I fear nothing because I’m already dead. I guess I died on my birthday after all 


Nothing Was The Same x IFHY

You’re so fucking cool man. Like honestly. Sometimes I hate you so much for the exact same reason I used to love you so much - you’re never wrong. Like ever. You always happen to know what the fuck is up, and you always seem to have some sort of output to logically and emotionally fits the situation.

I could write an essay of a post sharing my little feelings with song lyrics but I don’t think that would be appropriate because those wouldn’t be my words. But then again, what are my words? My words are the result of all influences around me, and therefore song lyrics would supposedly be part of my words as well. No matter, my words it is.

Without a doubt I’ve fallen since you’ve left. Hence, Nothing Was The Same. It’s funny because throughout all walks of my life Drizzy’s content always relates to me in some way, shape, or form. Or maybe I just purposely relate myself to his music. Either way though, I always find relevance with his lyrics. For the greater of two years Take Care was the center of my being, and as Drake is musically moving on, so my central focus is moving on as well. I hope Nothing Was The Same will be as fucking good of an album as the first one. Back on track though, I’ve more of less lost my shit since you’ve left. I used to believe life was better in two’s, and which was why I never chose to be alone for long, but I thought I would be perfectly fine by myself. I thought it was weird that you couldn’t be fine by yourself. Now through the past 4 months I’m starting to see your side. As the saying goes, “If you want to get there fast, go alone. If you want to last, go together”. I thought the first part was true, at least from an academic perspective (let’s be honest in all group projects I mostly do all the shit anyway) but now I’ve come to realize it’s probably better to go together all the time. Maybe you’ll get there slower, but its the experience of getting there that matters right? And once you’re actually fucking there you’ll have someone to share it with. I think that sounds beautiful.

Then to the point where you’re always right. Maybe you aren’t always right about everything in life, but you always happen to be right about me. And that pisses the fuck outta me, you know? I try quite hard to be spontaneous and unpredictable, but you always happen to know what’s coming. Like who the fuck are you? Get outta my head - I don’t even have my own head screwed on right. You were right about her. You were right about the other her. You were right that we were strangers, never meant to be together but we made it work. And you were right about everything after. What cheeses me the most is you’ve actually never been wrong, and rather I’ve been wrong the whole time. About a lot of things. Why can’t I be right for once? Why couldn’t I be right for you? Just kidding - that’s going too far. But even recently. I asked you what the fuck is wrong with me and why all I have is short bursts of happiness before I need to seek more. Like a drug addict experiencing regular withdrawals. You told me it was because I don’t belong anywhere, or I haven’t found where I belong. Bitch, why the fuck are you right again. For the greater of these past days I’ve been contemplating that question. Where do I belong? What do I belong to? I thought I had all that figured out. Turns out I don’t have the slightest clue. Do you, reader, know what it feels like to not really belong anywhere? To be included in many, but feel exclusive to none? To share joys and bonds with others, but it was for good fun? The fact that I don’t feel like I belong anywhere makes me question first what I am, or who I am. If only I was Jean Valjean right? Then I could confidently yell to the heavens who the fuck I think I am and leave it at that. Except I’m not. To define who I am I should first define what I am. “I am the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world”. Actually, I am a formless parasite, capable of adapting to any given situation at hand to cope with my surroundings before the essence of my being there is satisfied, in which case I detach thoughtlessly myself and inject myself onto a new host, whatever the new host may be. Living this way for God knows how long I’ve identified two things. 1) I can fit in to almost anything I choose. 2) Being able to fit in I realize the ugly nature of what I’m attaching on to, and choose to leave. Because of this I don’t fit into anything, as at the end of the day a formless parasite without a host only withers, and perhaps my time to wither will come soon. Why did you tell me I don’t belong anywhere? That’s actually a pretty fucking mean thing to say. But I’m actually glad you told me because for the most part I’m pretty sure I’ve known my whole life, I just never wanted to admit to it. Thanks for telling me the truth. I don’t know many people who would tell me things as directly as you do. So for that reason and many others, I can’t bring myself to hate you because let’s admit it, you’re cool as fuck. 

We had a conversation once about the deadly sins. I don’t remember where that conversation stemmed from but the outcome of said conversation I remember clear as mud. I said I think my biggest sin was pride. I’m a prideful ass dude, and I have an ego bigger Scarlett Johansson’s lucious Avenger ass cheeks. But you said my sin wasn’t pride, it was envy. That sparked my interest because I don’t envy anyone. As Tyga says, “Pussy, money, weed get all that”, I don’t envy any of that. I have serious one-gina issues so pussy is irrelevant as long as I have my chick; I grew up with the absence of a golden spoon in my mouth so I don’t view money as the center of the world; weed I could use right now but then again who wouldn’t benefit from a toke or two. My point being, I never saw that I was an envious kind of person. But low and behold, what the fuck is up, you were right once again. As I sit in my daily life rotting, I can’t help but envy what everyone else in the world is doing. Kids that are in exam season - they have something to focus on, a pressuring driver that delegates what they do in their time. Kids that are finishing up exams - you get summer soon, fuck you. Kids that are on coop or have work - you’re making money man, don’t complain. You for example, you have everything one could ask for - school is easy to you, you can have fun to your hearts content, you can meet whoever the fuck you want, you can DO whatever the fuck you want, there is no authority all up in your grill, you can sleep. Once again, you’re cool as fuck, I cannot stress that enough. But for whatever reason you’re unhappy. I wish you well, but now back to me. I envy you. I envy all those other kids too. I don’t necessarily envy material possessions but I think I envy situations. SItuations we’re in and situations we cannot control. Perhaps my pride stems from that fact that I thought i had a masterful control of my surroundings so I never needed to be envious, but take all that away and what am I left with? A being with too many coinciding emotions than would be deemed normal, and too much time for my mind to wander. Hopefully I’ve grown to be more patient through this experience, but I doubt it. As a wrap to this paragraph, I am envy and envy is me. I wish I could just split into different little beings, one of my deemed regular persona, one of rage and anger, one of envy, one of pride, lust, etc. You get the point. I think it would mentally put me at ease.

I completely lost focus of what the fuck I was going to say or why I started typing this in the first place. I was recommended to write a blog about my feelings or some shit ages ago but I swallowed that. But now for whatever reason my emotional bitchass has resurfaced and here I am typing away, hopefully able clear my head before I sleep at graceful hour of 9 pm. I find it ironic how I do nothing but loaft at work and it kills my vision, but all I do when I get home is sit in front of my computer and further kill my vision. And I wonder why my vision is progressively getting worse. God bless the fact that I have no friends and no one knows I have a tumblr. From my self diagnosis I probably sound like the biggest bitch right now, but people that know me already know that. Completely irrelevant but for the first time in my life I had aspirations of pursuing a chick on my initiative and she turns out to have a boyfriend. They hit a rocky patch and things looked good for me (yes I know, there is a special hell for people like me) and the next thing I know I feel like I got shit on. I probably had it coming, but really feels good for a first time huh? Fuck you, fuck the world, fuck that place, fuck this, fuck my situation, and I hope you’re happy with your relationship and that you cherish it because it means to world to you when you’re in it - I’d know cuz I’m out of it. I mean to wish you well without satire or any demeaning force though, like I actually wish you to be happy, you deserve it. Everybody deserves to be happy.

Whoop and there you go. Another demonstration of my magical abilities to PMS like a chick. I’m pretty proud of it actually. All I need now is to get my panties out of a knot and change my tampon and I could possibly pull off as a regular ass chick on the internet. 

Sometimes I think I should see a shrink. But I don’t think he’d take me too seriously, and the last thing I need is for the mother fucker to judge my ass as he’s taking notes. Maybe just somebody I can talk to and have them relay back to me that I’m not as crazy as I think I am. Wouldn’t that be refreshing? I realize my “problems” are of the lowest possible scale in comparison to others that actually need to seek the aid of a shrink, such as those that have suffered abuse or have mental illness, but to me in my life these thoughts are pretty fucking shrink-worthy, although the actual professional may disagree. I had someone in my life that wanted to be a shrink once, maybe they could diagnose me. They’re never wrong though so I hope they don’t tell me I have fucking cancer or some shit. I recently watched a video on YouTube about an autistic girl who could communicate her thoughts through typing on a computer. She wouldn’t do it frequently at first, and her autistic condition didn’t improve over time, but it was supposedly the first glimpse into the world of an autistic person. The piece was beautiful. She described life through her eyes, why she would experience her random outbursts, or her self induced seizures, and how she just wanted to be normal like everyone else but couldn’t. The most heartbreaking part was when she described why she would bang her head on the floor. She said she wish she could control it and that she didn’t have to, but if she didn’t pound her head on the floor she felt as if her body would explode at any moment (or something of the sort, I don’t mean to take away from the beauty of her documentary but I honestly do not remember her exact words and I don’t wanna go about making shit up). The most heartwrenching part was her parents thought there was no way of communicating with their daughter, but as it turns out she was mentally sound the entire time and could understand their interaction her whole life, she just wasn’t able to express it do to her mental illness. People that have mental illness or are in need of actual professional help should by all means seek a specialist or a shrink or whomever could help their case, but for kids like me I don’t think its a good idea. I wouldn’t wanna come off as an attention seeking brat with nothing better to do than try to make friends with a professional problem-listener that charges $60 an hour for their services. Once again I have no fucking clue where I’m going with this, so I’m just going to shut the fuck up now. If you as the reader like what I’m writing about give me a shout or a comment or something and I’ll write more in the future. Who knows? Maybe this not-so-annoymous sharing will help me. HAHA just fucking kidding, no one will read this cuz I have no where I fit in remember? It was a trick question to see if you were paying attention.   I’m weird and awkward. Get used to it. In all seriousness though, I wish you well.

- And Until Next Time, Take Care