[Lame post-teenage angst] Dammit I can’t stand all you smiling happy people running around with all your friends and family. Why can’t you go away and let me be alone in my misery? It’s not like you pay any attention to the sniveling waif smoking stale cloves by himself in the shade anyway, but at least you don’t have to hang around kissing your girlfriends and having fun. Oh sure, I can smile like the best of you all to cover up the diseased, hollow feeling I live with, but what’s the point? I hate you all! [/Lame post-teenage angst]
Yeah, I’m really looking forward to my birthday too…
I watched “A Capitol Fourth” for the, let’s see, '97,98,99,00,01,02 sixth year in a row, once again alone. I’m cool with that. My friends usually go downtown, and it really stresses me out to be in that kind of crowd.
My birthday? I will have been in a new city for all of a month. I expect to be alone that day too. It’s really no matter though.
Man, I forget how much fun it was to be a brooding teenager. I would spend hours listening to The Final Cut in my room with all the lights off, hopped up (or down) on Drixoral, feeling sorry for myself. Good times, good times.
OTOH, I’ve NEVER hated Thanksgiving! Grandma’s cooking? Sheeuut! I would get there a day early.
Heh, The Final Cut… Those were the days, er, well, a couple of years ago. Ironically enough, a quote from that particular album (Could anybody love him/Or is it just a crazy dream?) won me the wonderful woman I’m going to officially propose to this Wednesday (also my 21st birthday).
So, uhm, cheer… ::snicker:: up…?! ::uncontrollable laughing::
