You don’t care for music, do you?

I’m having an “I hate myself” moment.  Actually, I’m having an “I hate myself” life, but who’s counting?

My wisdom teeth are pissing me off.  And so are my allergies.  The combination?  I scratch the back of my throat with my tongue, and it gets all cut to hell by my FUCKING wisdom teeth.  If I had some form of alcohol I’d pull the fuckers out myself.  I might do it anway.

Oh yeah.  I hate myself.

I can’t help but feel most people feel the same.  I have no friends, and if I do, they have a strange way of showing it.  No matter what I do, I will always feel as though people are only barely tolerating me.  That they want me to go away and leave them alone.  Because everyone would be happier and better off if I weren’t here.  My parent’s wouldn’t have the financial burden of an about-to graduate highschool student.  They can’t afford me anymore.  I feel so bad for living most of the time, knowing that I’m just a buren to them.  A burden that they can’t carry much longer.

I’m a disappointment.  My parents deserved so much better than anything I could give them.  I’m such a fuck-up, and no matter how hard I try I will never be good enough at anything.  They say they’re proud of me–what’s there to be proud of?  I’m just a fat, lazy, unhealthy, fucked-up leech who’s been taking advantage of them for 18 years.

Christ, I wish someone would just fucking shoot me already.