Hi! Do you remember blogs? Well, this used to be one. Now it just serves as an archive for my multiple Twitter accounts.

26 July 2003

What do you want from me?

I’ve got a feeling I’ve tried everything now: regular chatrooms, sex-oriented chatrooms, bars, clubs (as if my prince charming could spend his times in bars and clubs, ha!), saunas, cruising bars, cruising spots, I even tried the blog. Maybe some people are bound to be single for all their life, just because they’re too picky. Maybe some people are bound to be single and unemployed all their life, just because they can’t make compromises. I had already figured there was a connection between the two, but I hadn’t realized how obvious that link is: earning your living or settling with someone, in this shitty world, means abandoning your ideals, accepting the ambient mediocrity, and accepting you’re an integral part of it. Some will say that, where I wrote ideals they read illusions. And they may well be right, but it doesn’t change anything to the end result. Since the national lottery stubbornly refuses to grant me an allowance, I’m heading straight for either the piss-smelling piles of a bridge, or a psych ward. So I say when I turn thirty, in order to celebrate my failed life and prepare myself thoroughly for my future, I’ll start drinking bad wine and swallowing tranquilizers. At least that’ll be something new.

Anyway, the deal is simple. Either I have a destiny, and whatever it is there’s no point in getting agitated because it’ll happen, whatever I do. Or there’s no such thing as destiny, and I haven’t got any chance of becoming what I have dreamt of being for decades, because why me and not all those other people who have the same dreams, and I’ve got nothing to deserve to achieve them (and I’m not just talking about being rich—don’t care about the money), so there’s no point either in getting agitated because it won’t happen, whatever I do. It’s not that I’m bipolar, just that there are two options for my life, neither of which really incites me to move it. Well, right now, as far as the very short term is concerned, I’d have to find some kind of a job so I stop being afraid of my bank’s website (and so I can change clothes from one day to the next as well) but, as I said, motivation isn’t really there. What do I do when I get a job offer by email? (An uninteresting job, sure, and not one of those I can be happy about, but something short, fast, not too complex, and well paid.) I just let it linger long enough for the offer to expire.

Good thing that suicide is a form of concession too. Must be why I have never been seriously tempted.

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