All about me. (Narcisistic as fuck)

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North berwick, Scotland, United Kingdom
I fucking love sleep. I don't get much of it though.

Sunday, 5 January 2014

I spent the later half of writing this craving a cigarette for some reason.

You know me, I know you, no fuckin' point in talking about it. What's up? Oh me? Why I'm doing terribly thank you. Lemme prefix this by saying I'm glad to be alive but I don't want to be. Then again I don't want to be dead either (I think I said something to this effect in the last blog post but whatever). So what have I been up to? Well you know the drill; time for bullet points.


  • I'm back at college and about to begin the second half of the semester
  • I moved out of my parents place to a town on the outskirts of Edinburgh (Feel free to drop by sometime)
  • I kind of got back into art and drawing via pirating photoshop and using the shitty £30 drawing pad I bought last year
  • I started learning guitar. Poorly. Everybody says learning guitar is slow but that's gotta be triple true for me (damn thing keeps fucking up and I can't tune it for shit so it's beyond slow at this point) but I'm enjoying it so that's something I guess
  • I started taking better care of myself and using shitty dating websites to try and not feel like such a fucking lonely looser (given my luck, looks and attitude, that unsurprisingly has gone nowhere)
  • I learned my threshold when it comes to drinking (new year was fucking brutal, and brought with it an appropriately brutal hangover)
Wow all those bullet points begin with "I". I'm fucking horrible. So let's go into further detail about the moving out thing. It was towards one of the best summers I've had in a long time (discounting the insane work that I had to do and getting laid off my old job), I had fun with friends, got drunk and shit, went out in the gorgeous weather cycling (godfuck I love cycling) it was great, I loved it. Then in about late July, early August maybe, I was at my friend Ginty's place chillin' with him and another pal of mine Ian, playing dreamcast I think and the fact that somebody that we knew was looking for a roomate came up.

Now despite being unemployed, I had money, enough money in fact to afford both the rent and deposit of this place. So I called this guy and said I was interested and before I knew it, I was beginning to tell people that I was moving away and I had began to pack things away. Then by the end of October I was here in Musselburgh and I thought I was the king of the fuckin' world, I'd live here, I'd be self-sufficient I'd get a new job and I'd feel great. Exactly none of that happened.

I'm in a smaller, more cramped room, with half of my shit here and half of it at my parents place. All of my friends are now an hour bus journey away, I have no new job prospects (I'm a KP in a steakhouse back home, but I've not worked there in over a month because business is slow) and I'm stuck living with someone I hate. Now this is important, I don't hate my roomate: I hate living with him. This kind of shit happens when you move in with someone that you don't stick you're dick in, and even if I was gay, I wouldn't stick a blade in him let alone my dong.

So yeah basically I've fucked myself into a nice little corner for six months. I'm essentially paying £300 a month, plus food and electric and gas payments, to do the exact same shit I did at home but not for free. I've only myself to blame but dammit I'm fucking pissed at myself got getting me into this mess. So suffice it say I'm not going to be renewing my lease in April, no way in hell. I'm turning twenty and moving back to a comfortable livable life in the country before a hopefully bitchin' summer with all my friends. Conveniently I should be done with the college year around then, which is great.

As for the future I'm looking to shed a year's worth of college off my life and go to university early (well early for me). The thing is I felt really awkward doing 4 years of a college course then going to uni when I was 21 since a lot of people in my year at high school wen to uni when they finished 6th year (so 17 or 18-ish) and I kinda got the impression all uni students were about that age. Apparently that's not the case, most are 20-25 (or beyond in some cases) so that's a relief I suppose. I said something like this to my mother and she responded with "Yeah it's good that by then you'll have lived away from home before, some people who go to uni cant' handle it and do stupid shit like kill themselves!" (I'd expect no less from my mother)

So the rest of this is basically going to be me moaning and describing why I feel like shit a lot of the time. So feel free to stop reading here (and also feel free not to give me shit if you don't like what I have to say in the following paragraphs). Now I personally don't feel like I'm depressed, nor have I suffered from depression in the past. No I get sure, I feel like shit a lot, but it comes and goes, for maybe a day or too but I don't wake up feeling like my life's not worth living very often. When I'm drunk it's a different story but that's something else entirely. No I think the thing that keeps me from falling into full on shut-in-despair-mode is because I know people that have it a lot worse than me (not motherfuckers in Africa that I don't know, won't know, can't know and don't fucking care about!) but people that I've talked to, drank with, played games and stuff with, some of them have it a lot worse than I do I'll admit straight-up.

That being said I still hate my predicament because at the end of the day it's my life, in my brain, in my head. So I'm gonna put myself and my interests and my problems first, that's just how it is. So I've figured it out, I know what I am now. I'm not an introvert, or a shut-in or anything like that. I'm a self-hating extrovert who really fucking wants someone to make real effort when I look like I'm having a hard time and not to leave me alone when I say that "I'm fine" when I'm clearly fucking not and if you know me, you know I'm to proud to admit when I'm needing help with something like that. But it's not your fault, even thought it totally is (I'm not apologizing for that statement) but whatever it's four in the fucking morning so I'm going to bed.

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