Subject: pervasive stupidity

Mood: pissy
Music: Red Hot Chili Peppers' "Universally Speaking"

Fenced in and pacing, but it's not like I know what I'd do if I could get out. My prison is a form of comfort, cause I don't have to ponder what's keeping me caged. If I just sit here, I don't have to worry about freedom either.

SO tired! So wish things would change, but I don't know what I want anymore. I find myself hating everything I do. All my endeavours are trivial and pathetic, and yet I fail at them all just the same. At least I can sit here and laugh at myself for ever getting involved in some of this garbage in the first place.

So here I am, nearly 4 in the morning - another Sunday's come to be, and comes to me. I just let it roll on by, and don't do anything. Now THERE's something I'm getting good at! Futility! Oh, that's something to be proud of!

Maybe I'll do something this week. Yeah.

- dearjoan

[real me in...]