I hate everyone and everything

I hate everyone and everything. I just want to be alone. I’m not depressed, I’m pretty fuckin’ happy. If you saw me writing this in a coffee shop you’d think I might be a nice girl, and you would be right. I am a nice fucking girl, but with all the bullshit in the world sometimes you can’t help but think, “bloody hell.” I’m just as guilty as anyone to have created as much shit as you.

I’m now smiling to myself with a glint in my eye. No, its not hope, I have a habit of being aroused by thoughts. But really I don’t hate everyone and everything, I love it all. Stupid me and my stupid love.

I’ve been wanting to write a story about a girl on a journey, but not about me of course, no no. I have a hard time seeing a story for its beginning, middle, and end. How do I want it to end? What kind of lessons are to be learnt along the way? Fuck if I know, anyone claiming to really know anything about life knows fuck all. That’s some fuckin’ zen shit right there. No wait, it’s too pretentious to think that I know the first thing about zen shit. Sorry about all the ‘fucks’, I’m not usually this vulgar.

I’m going to be self-indulgent and do it anyway, lessons and all that. Fuck, ok, let’s hear something good.

When I was younger I was stupidly shy. I spent a whole year sitting next to a guy I had a major crush on and the worst part was that everyone knew. "Denise Love Gil" was written on the whiteboard in the front of the band room at the start of the evening practice. Total teenage humiliation, good times. Triumph eventually came for me though. A year after he graduated (and after I was over him) we got drunk at a friend’s house and we totally made out, rolling around on the floor for all to witness. Now that’s what I call closure.

No, that wasn’t a very good story, there wasn’t really much substance there – I had a high school crush and eventually conquered said crush (something I’ve always been secretly proud of). But that was the mind of a typical teenager engrossed in their own world of friends and not much beyond. Teenage me till I was about 17 was a pretty crap version of myself. I can’t remember what I learnt in government class (even though I got straight As), but I can tell you the names of all the boys I liked and the secret names my friends and I had for them. When I was 17 I began to realize why I was so shy and withdrawn. Oh the teenage angst of hating the world and its soulless materialism! Why wasn’t everybody talking about what was on my mind?! The void, the void, that’s all there is, the void. Who is my soul mate, is he out there, what is he thinking this very minute?

If you’re a teenage girl you may take some time for the read following…