And now that I have your attention I will proceed by adding small mumbling of self hatred that I will say with a smile to make you laugh because I’m joking after all. And perhaps you would like to give me a lecture on hoe depression isn’t a joke. To which I will role my eyes because I see you like Tumblr. Then we’ll get into an argument, so maybe I won’t say it at all.
I’ll follow this with some blabbering about engineering nonsense and how millennials are just like that; bonding over death and all that. Again I will smile at the patheticness of myself, it’s no wonder I make people laugh. I am a live human version of a joke. Amusing isn’t it.
It’s funny really that I even caught your attention with such a common phrase. I wonder why you even read this far. I’ll say the fact you took me so seriously makes me worry about myself but more honestly it makes me worry about you and the people you surround yourself with.
But of course, we’re writers ( or so I assume) and we tend to be sad, tend to be a little not right in the head, tend to like the insanity we are in. Being a writer is a good excuse isn’t it? A sad poem is not a sad poem it’s just a poem. That’s what poems are. Writers are poems or some other philosophical thought that directs you away from the topic of conversation. Of course we never had a topic of conversation.
It was just me spewing bitter venom all over you Saturday night.
However, I doubt you were having a night worth being in (by societal concepts anyways) considering you’re here STILL reading some nonsensical incoherent piece of loosely worded sentences that are long enough to look like some deep philosophy presented in pretentiously incomprehensible vocabulary to make it sound like I actually know what the fuck I’m talking about. I’m not sad just deep. I’m not depressed-I’m a writer. I’m not messed up- I’m Virginia Woolf (minus the talent..oops).
Why do you insist on reading this? You give me anxie-. You make me anxious with your caring. Caring is suffocation-especially for girls made of smirks and I really couldn’t care less attitude. My emotions range from I was joking to can’t you handle a joke? Why do you care? Or are you just having fun reading this incoherent junk?
Stop wasting your time. Leave.
And now that you’re gone. Sigh. I can go back to wishing- on shooting stars that is.