People never cease to amaze me. As much as I�d like to think that I have seen/heard/experienced it all, someone comes along and disproves everything. It makes me realize that my hatred for 99% of mankind is completely warranted. When I started this online journal, I wasn�t sure what my purpose for doing so was. I didn�t know if I wanted to get deep and personal or if I would just end up rambling on about some senseless bullshit. So far, I have done the latter. I am sure there will come a time when I will incorporate a little of both, and then some, into my writings. On occasion, I visit random diaries just out of curiosity for what others have going on in their lives, and maybe even for a little inspiration. I have found a few, very few, that are actually pleasant to read. The remainder? Well, let�s just say that when I am done reading them, I find myself wishing to be illiterate to save myself from the dread of these people�s words. For the most part, I am not a very high-spirited, happy-go-lucky, the glass is half full kind of person. I tend to be a bit pessimistic. I also suffer the occasional bout of depression and self-loathing. Sometimes my self-esteem is so low, it may as well rest in a graveyard. But you know what? Regardless of this, even I don�t throw myself a daily pity party as some of the authors of these diaries I read do. Some of the shit these people whine about is just so nonsensical. It leaves me dumfounded reading about the shit these people view as �problems�. I would really hate to bear witness to any of these people facing actual difficulties. I find myself wanting to thump them in the head while screaming at them to join reality like the rest of us. I read about people crying about how fat they are because they have ballooned up to a size 3. Why is it that so many girls want to look like they�re 8 years old for the rest of their life? I read about people having to throw up everything they eat because the little prepubescent, pimple-faced punk at school won�t like them if they aren�t a walking toothpick. Yeah, the aftertaste of vomit on your breath is so much more appealing. I read about people who whine about being broke and how they can�t support their unplanned family. And in their very next entry, they are bitching about having to work over time. How much overtime? 9 whole hours spread out over a whole week. I think if I had a new baby at home, I�d be thanking God for that overtime. In yet another diary, I read about someone pining away for the love they lost. It obviously never occurred to this person to keep his dick in his pants. Apparently faithfulness is too overrated for this person. I read about these people complaining that someone made an unpleasant remark about their entry. They defend themselves by saying their diary is for their eyes only and they will write as they please. I often wonder why these people don�t either A) write in an actual book or B) use the private entry function. Someone forgot to warn them that just as they are free to write what they want, the readers are just as free to comment as they want. I mean, people will make an actual entry over this. Many of these people are teenagers. I can remember back to when I was a teenager, all those years ago. Not even I went as overboard as these girls do. Hell, now that I am almost 30, I would give anything to have �problems� like that instead of the legitimate ones we face as adults. Some of these people are adults, but you�d never know it by reading what they piss and moan about. The guy who pines away for his lost love is 40. I would think by now he would know the dos and don�ts of a relationship. Instead, he uses the fact that he�s a male as an excuse as to why he does this shit, just like a 16-year-old boy would do. The guy who has a new baby and babbles about being broke but having to work overtime is also an adult. He�s in his 20�s. And what�s funny about this, besides the obvious, is that he�ll write about all the games/DVD�s he either wants or has just gotten. So much for being a responsible father. This entry was supposed to come complete with a point, but I think I may have lost it somewhere. Oh, yes, I remember. If any of this sounds like you, please grow the fuck up already. There are real problems to face; problems that would really make you freak. And if it is really that bad (which it isn�t), then stop doing whatever it is that you�re doing to bring this shit upon yourself. I wish I had bought stock in Prozac.
*Listening to: �Bring me to Life� by Evanscence
*Feeling: Lethargic
*Wanting: To submerge myself into a tub of ginger scented hot water
