> Garbage - As Heaven Is Wide

I want everyone to die. I want the sun to explode. I want nuclear winter. ALL DEAD. Okay, new plan. I’m getting out of this shit hole. I’m getting a job, I’m saving up some money, and I’m moving to Sacramento. Fuck everyone and what they want me to do. Fuck “matriculation.” I’m not going to let them turn me into cannon fodder for their wars. I guess the crux of my argument is that existence is meaningless, but what should I do in the meantime. America is the Roman Empire v2.0, so I should be a hedonist, in the Greek meaning of the word. I need to move to the city, where there are books and culture. I hate my father. I tolerate my mother. What we need are some weapons of mass destruction. Fuck everyone. Overload. Game over. I quit. Fuck the imbeciles. Let them all breed into even stupider fucks. Let them fuck some more, it’s America. Fuck fuck fuck, secrete babies, they fuck some more until the world ends. I have class in nine hours. Everyone should die.

God, I haven’t blogged in a month. How sad. I was really angry and exasperated, and I was writing an e-mail to Molly but I decided it was too depraved, so I decided to post it here.

I haven’t made much progress in the way of the newspaper, what with my impending failure in two of my classes. I got a C on my Biology test, but I’m going to have to take the class again anyway because of my horrible lab notebook scores. I hate this place. I’m sitting here and I’m supposed to be writing an essay on this prompt: “Discuss the eight features of Zen.” The book talks about Zen for a grand total of five pages, not once using the term “eight features.” It talks about the eight characteristics of enlightenment, or “sattori,” but not anything about “features.” I am so infuriated, I could just scream. I have my dad breathing down my neck to get a job, I have Biology where I started it late because my dad said I didn’t have enough classes, Philosophy where the prompts are written randomly and the book tells me nothing about what I’m supposed to be writing about…I am just so exasperated. I want to kill my dad. He actually bought food today (amazing). But, of course, he only bought what he likes to eat, so I have no cereal in the morning. I really am going to snap one of these days. I have my throat disease, but what does he care? “I don’t want to give you money, you’ll turn into your aunt.” is what he says. He has insurance now, he’s just being a bastard. I fantasize daily about how satisfying it would be to slit his throat. That beautiful look while his blood squirts all around as he quickly dies. That look of “Gosh, I should have paid attention to my son. Gosh, maybe I’m not the only fucking person on the planet!” Hate doesn’t begin to describe it. Hate was a few years ago. I don’t know what it is now, but all I know is I never want to see his face again. Sitting here with this book full of bullshit and lies, I don’t know what to do. I’m a failure. I guess the truth is that I really don’t care about anything other than intelligence, and I don’t see it anywhere around me. I don’t see it in this horribly taught class. Bad teachers revolt me. I’m just exasperated with my life. Daniela is a charlatan, Jordan doesn’t understand me, and my father wishes I was dead. Gosh, my life is just so great! I’m going to die alone–or even worse, surrounded by these idiots. I need to get out of this hellhole. I’m afraid the drop date has passed. I need to find out. Fuck. I tried to instant message Taggart, and my computer is being a bastard. You know when you get to a point where you just are going to scream? I’m about 99% there. It’s inexorable–this feeling that something horrible is going to happen. I’m going to fail my classes and my dad is going to kick me out. And then I’m going to die. Not just die, but die slowly–from HIV or something like that, in poverty the whole time. I’ll lose all my stuff. I’ll smell. And right before I finally die, someone will come up to me and say “Believe in Jesus, He is your only way to salvation!” And I’ll stab them. Over and over and over.