Hello? Helllloooo? It's been since August. Jeeze. Well, hey. I don't even know what to say. I've had my ups, and my downs. Things aren't the same, but they are the same. I feel as if this may be my last post. I do have a tumblr, which I update frequently. http://maxdaulerio.tumblr.com
Few things. Weezer's "El Scorcho" perfectly defines certain aspects of my life.
I have been having awful insomnia for the past 2-3 weeks now. Maybe it's because Absolutepunk.net. Maybe it's because David thinks the Libertines are above everything. Who knows. I don't go to bed till at least 3 in the morning, and I'm up around 9am.
I feel like complete shit. I'm losing myself for no reason. I need to really get my shit together.
I need to man up and say "I like you".
The voice in my head says "she's not interested. move along, bub. she doesn't want to talk to a sad fat sorry kid like yourself".
I need to tell myself I'm awesome.
I need to look in the mirror and like what I see.
I need to schedule a doctors appointment to get my lapband filled.
I need a lapband support group meeting.
I need a courtesy swipe and a bullet to the brain plz kthx.
I need a second job lined up for me.
I need to get myself out of shoprite before I get fired for stealing sushi or yelling at customers.
It's been a solid two months since I've written anything.
I'm not the fool I once was, but I'm not the man I'll be.
Seriously, a lot of things about me and my character have changed since May.
But I'm still a fool. I'm an immature teenager. I'm extremely unreliable. You need me to do something? You best remind me often. You want to hang out? Well, I want to hang out too, only with certain people. Some people I just don't want a party. Does that make sense? It probably doesn't at all. There are others I want to hang out, but I have anxiety over certain things.
There are a lot of things about me you don't know anything about. Things you wouldn't understand. Things you couldn't understand. Things you shouldn't understand. You don't want to get mixed up with a guy like me.
I'm a loner, Dottie. A rebel.
But in all seriousness.
There are some things I feel as if I should tell you, or somebody, to let you know who I've become. I've finally come to accept a few things.
I have been struggling with depression for almost 6 years now. I need to get help, or else things will eventually get worse. I've been in denial about it this whole time, playing it off as me just being a sad, fat, lonely kid going through his teenage years. Some days I'm fine. Somedays, I'm extremely happy. Those rare days are so nice, to just be genuinely happy. But at least 95%, I'm upset. I'm upset that I'm overweight. I had freakin' Lap Band surgery, and i'm sitting here like a fat fucking slob. I gross myself out. I need a workout buddy. I'm upset that I've still never kissed a girl. I'm fucking 19, and even when intoxicated, I can't fucking do it. It eats at me. Some people I know complain about breaking up with their girlfriend/boyfriend. Get over it. You at least had somebody. I've never had anybody. I'm upset about my job. I fucking hate shop rite. Somedays I just want to climb over the register and punch old bitches in the face for not bagging their $400 worth of groceries, steal a pack of sushi, call all my bosses old fat cunts, and then do donuts in the parking lot. If I'm going out, I'm going out in style. I'm upset, so I started smoking cigarettes. Why? No idea. Wanted to try it. I liked the way the menthol tasted, and how it really calmed me down when I was stressed out. My friends telling me to quit stressed me out more, so I would chain smoke more out of spit. But, I have decided to stop for the time being.
Also, the last thing that upsets me is Petey.
Petey was our orange kitty. He was a fiesty little fucker, but incredibly loving at the same time. About 4 weeks ago, he ran away. I just want to know if he's okay, and if his body hasn't been scraped up at the side of the road where pavement meets sidewalk.