The Irony

I think it’s ironic how someone who craves attention so utterly would have a blog that has been swallowed in the vastness of the web blogging community. Ignored, lonely, odd, random and now neglected – such is my poor little Live-Journal blog.

Don’t get me wrong, it was personal and I would dread it if my mom stumbled upon it (by some cruel twist of fate) and discovered that instead of New Year’s resolutions her only child is writing angry poetry and discusses masturbation. But… for someone as opinionated as I am, being unheard is… unheard of!

I have no point. Nor does this blog really.

Or maybe there is?…

I haven’t written anything worth reading for years, maybe it’s time to rekindle my love for writing. Whatever trauma it was that inhibited me from pursuing anything recreational (except for drugs) has been crippling me for too long. I feel like I’m wasting away.

Food has lost its affect on me. I hate everything I write, draw. I never bothered buying that E string fro my electric. I dare not leave the house without makeup. I like to live my life mostly through noble TV characters; I identify with their neurosis, I defend their oddities, I celebrate their triumphs but I neglect my body (because I loathe it), I obsess over how society precieves me (which I rebel against) and I go against every grain of fundumental belief, every second of every minute of every day.

I am the all-American singing dancing crap of the world.

Why? As if it isn’t obvious. Fear. Say it with me, dear members of the jury. FEAR.

And it’s all your fucking fault.

Yes, I blame society. Because society has taught me to blame everyone else. The FDA, the senators, Bush, our parents, corrupt cops, bad doctors, alcoholics, murderers, scum of the earth. But there really aren’t any bad people are there? There aren’t any good people either. There are two polar sides and it’s up to you to take one. The blaming game is the basis of the legal system and it will always be part of human nature to be right, lazy and selfish.

Am I right or am I right? Well, I’m still lazy and slefish. Two out of three ain’t bad.

I think I need some ass kicking. I’m 21. Every little goal I’ve set myself and (quite miraculously) accomplished made me run the other way. Every time I was two steps away staring success in the face I… panicked, and the adrenaline rushed through me like poison and instead of remaining patrified (still, immobile) I took a turn the other way. I flunked, I failed, I made a scene, I’ve lost the best things I’ve ever had and then I got a stupid smile of satisfaction on my face. Now, my life is no longer a perfect, boring routine- I can start over, I can have something to do.

Problem is, I never did. I’ve remained in mourning. The memories and the regrets keep me chained to the floor. Now I lead an even more boring life; a hunchbacked hermit, with a patch and an alcohol problem…

Ok, I’m exaggerating now. I’m a writer goddamnit! Sorta. Kinda. Am I? Ha. I’ve ran so far into the other direction I am now unsure of who I really am and what I want to be. What is really ironic is that I’ve had my life planned out carefully since I was eight and the closer I got to university the more unsure I was of it all.

Am I good enough? – is something I keep asking myself. And my answer seems to be always “no”. My writing ‘skills’ are average at best, ameteurish. I’m probably average looking, putting aside my bf’s exclaims about the perfection of my ass, I’ll never do great things, or be someone… So why bother?

Excuses. A waste of my time while I should be doing something. I know all this yet all I can do is write this stupid blog post about a seemingly random topic: “irony”.

Isn’t that ironic?

………………………………..

Is it? Isn’t it ironic? Don’t you think? Does the irnoy slap you in the face like a wet fish? Do you rage, do you pity my poor defenseless, senseless blog and its inevitable, tragic destiny? Do you feel like I’ve wasted five minutes of your life (go back to YouTube, asshole)? Do you wish you could stop reading this nonsense but you can’t, it’s like 9/11 all over again – horrifying but a very captivating subject that can be squeezed and dissected without merit?

Or do you wonder, is this but a ploy to get someone to read my LJ blog other than my bf when he’s trying to figure out my cryptic behaviour (and getting even more puzzlement instead)?

Do you find it ironic, perhaps, that nothing I have mentioned is in no way ironic?

What do you think of Alanis Morisette anyway?

– Randomique

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