I shoulda known better. Hell, I did know better. You would think that after all this time, all these failures, everything I've lost, that I would understand. Apparently I've given myself extensive brain damage beating my head against brick walls all these years and induced a heightened level of insanity.
Then again, maybe I’m just a Natural Born Idiot. I mean, really, why would anyone want me? I’m a psychological mess, I’m weird looking, I have no interests besides Doctor Who, I can’t talk, can’t write, can’t function…broken fucking record, that’s all I am. Wounded vinyl in a CD world.
‘Just get out there.’ Yeah, right. The world terrifies me. I can’t talk to anyone I don’t know. Every new thing I try fails. Never mind the fact that everyone’s paired off already. 6,000,000,001:1. Never mind that all of my old friends are married. ‘cept one, and he’s as broken as I am.
There’s no answer. There’s no happy ending. All there is is hell. Hell tenfold.
The Last Documentary
or, Reject Without a Hobby
- Day 348 - Just another day singing Richard Marx