Random Monologue

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I fucking hate when everyone, especially teenagers go on, and on about depression, and being suicidal, and being alone in the world, and wanting an escape from the agony of life. No one has it fucking easy. Not one god damn person to ever walk the Earth has ever had, or will ever had it easy. Everyone struggles in different ways, and by claiming that you are depressed, or suicidal, you are deeming everyone else’s struggles, as inferior to your own. You are saying that you deserve more attention than other people who are also going through rough times, if not, WORSE times. So, what, you think you’re ugly? So, what everyone thinks you’re ugly. Because, oh, yeah, the last time I checked… the world, and everything in it only favors the attractive. It’s not like people who possess genuine talents, or skills go unnoticed just because they don’t have the ideal body, or face. Shut the fuck up. You want to look prettier? You complain enough to make me think that. Obviously, it’s enough to want to kill yourself, or simply, seclude yourself from the rest of humanity over, then, it should be enough to take drastic measures, that aren’t as annoying. Get some fucking plastic surgery? Move to a pl[ace where everyone is as ugly as Satan himself. Break every mirror in the world. I don’t fucking know, just shut up for once. Too fat? Why don’t you stop acting like you, and food are attached at the hip. Just because every fucking thing you shove in your cavernous mouth is personally rooted on your hips, doesn’t mean you’re connected at the hip. Stop eating poorly. Stop eating so much. Or, just stop eating, altogether. That way, when you eventually starve to death, you’ll at least die skinnier. You think you’re lonely, and have no friends? Go to fucking book stores, or coffee shops, or pet stores for Christ’s Sake. Go to the mall, or a club, or a fucking crack house. Make some fucking friends. Everyone always complains about all of the millions of fucking trivial things that plague them, but, the ones that kill themselves, or try to, are the ones that are too big of pussies to actually take their happiness, and their future into their own hands instead of waiting around for something to happen, and actually make it happen themselves. If everyone in the world would shut the fuck up, and take a moment to stop trying to get the world to reflect on how bad they have it, and simply reflected on themselves, maybe we wouldn’t have a world full of cowards who think that the only way to solve their problem is by killing themselves. Because that certainly solves everything. Because the world would totally be better off without you, right? First of all, stop thinking so highly of yourself, and that the world would even notice for a split second that you’re not here anymore. No. The world will never shed a tear. But, that doesn’t mean the rest of us won’t. Huh? You forget about us? Your friends? Your family? Your love? Because none of us matter do we? No. It’s just you, and your fickle, nonsensical, bullshit, weak feelings that seem to take priority above the people who have fought day after day to try, and keep you from relapsing into these bullshit cries for attention. YOU HAVE YOUR ATTENTION. Are you happy now? You’re dead, and you’ve left the rest of us with a rotting corpse. A rotting reminder, not of your failures, but, of ours. How we have failed to comfort you long enough to take that gun out of your hand, that razor away from your wrist, that rope from around your neck, those pills from your mouth, that ledge from underneath you… How we failed to convince you of our love, and support. How we failed to remind you that you are better than the shit you compared yourself to. Thanks to you, not only did you fail to stay in the game long enough to see tomorrow, we all failed for not trying hard enough to get you there. And for that. For your selfishness, and your damning of the rest of us, you are more dead to me than you know. I don’t care about the body, or the casket, or the hearse, or the grave, or any of that fucking shit. Your memory. Your “spirit” is dead to me. I didn’t realize going into all this that I was acquainted with such a monster. But, anyone who can make people who were only ever trying to help, feel this shitty is a monster in my book. I always laughed at suicide, and the people who committed it, but I never thought you would stoop so low as to join their sorry ranks. My own brother. It makes me sick. It makes me sad. It makes me wish you had never been born. Be happy, now you’ve made me wish the same thing you wished before you went through with it. It’s not enough to kill yourself this late in the game. Not with all the witnesses, or the people you’ve intertwined. You should’ve known better the day you took your first breath to not take a second, or a third, or a fourth, or a fifth. You should’ve known better. I should’ve known better. I should’ve been there. I wasn’t. Fuck you. See? This is what you do. You make other blame themselves for your selfish mistake. But, I’m not going to give you what you want. You’re not worth that satisfaction…. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I should’ve been there. I should’ve been there for you. 

Created: Jul 12, 2012

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