The Sunset Generation Vol. 2

A page from the diary of a kid trying to understand growing up and the world around him.

The Sunset Generation Vol. 2

    I hate f*****g writing in this book, I hate talking about everything that goes on around me. It’s pointless to try to speak if no one cares about what you have to say. No one will ever listen to what you have to say, people talk like they do but they don’t really. Whenever you try talking to someone about the s**t they’re supposed to be listening to you about they just tell you the same thing over and over again. “Well you should just be happy and stop getting hung up on things you can’t change”. It’s such a f*****g retarded statement, I’m forced to live with this s**t and if I see problems with it then obviously I’m going to get hung up about it. It’s easy to try to act like the world’s not your problem, but it is. You don’t get to pretend like it isn’t your problem just because you don’t like the mess you’ve made.

    Maybe it’s just the kind of thing people who’ve given up say, or maybe it’s just the kind of things normal people say. I don’t f*****g know. As much as I’d like to be, I’m not a normal person at all. If you’re supposed to be able to just shrug s**t off when it’s not going right then I guess I’m not even remotely normal. And on the note of being normal, I know I shouldn’t want to be normal but I f*****g do and I can’t help it. Everyone is always spouting their bull s**t about how being weird or different is this great  and wonderful thing but I think anyone who’s actually abnormal knows that there’s nothing great about being f*****g weird. No one hails you as some sort of genius, most of the time they just laugh at you behind your back. Or if you’re lucky you get someone who feels so superior to you because of their normalcy that they’ll take any chance they get to remind you that you’re nothing, not to them or to anyone.

That’s something I hate more than anything. I hate that now days it’s become a thing for people to run about, shouting to the heavens about how weird they are but they’re not even close to being weird. Everyone thinks it’s weird to like a rock and roll song, or to be curious about your sexuality. I just want to hit them in their stupid f*****g faces. Since the dawn of time men have been rubbing dicks and women have been eating p***y. And rock and roll as it stands now is tame. It’s normal to get fucked up on drugs and trash hotel rooms. It doesn’t make you a weirdo, it makes you irresponsible. I wish those mother fuckers would go one day in an abnormal person’s shoes, in my shoes. Try having to take pills every day, pills that make you numb but you need them to function. Try taking pills that reach inside of you and scoop out all humanity. I want them to try to go one day with those f*****g things inside them, taking away their souls. Better yet I wish they could sleep in my bed for one night. Having shadows dance about the room, hearing voices and whispering. How would that be for all those m***********s? Try going to sleep when monsters crawl out from under your bed and then slip under your covers with you. The more you ignore them the stronger they get. Worse than that, there’s not only the memories you wish you didn’t have but there’s also the memories you love the most. They torture you any way they can. I think if people had to deal with that every time they lay their heads down to sleep being weird wouldn’t be so popular.

Even better than that, I dare anyone of these mother fuckers who proclaim that they’re weird and happy with it to try and get someone to want them. Most people don’t know what it’s like to talk to a girl or a boy and know right off the bat that all that person can think is “why is this freak talking to me?” I want to see how well their selfish “I don’t care what anyone thinks” attitudes hold up when someone obviously is uncomfortable by the very fact that you would speak to them. It’s easy to say you don’t care when a good deal of people like you but it’s not so easy when most people don’t like you. When you’re seen as repulsive because of how you are. Not because of how you act; no, it’s because of the way you are. No one asks to be this way and half the time we’d all give it up in a heartbeat for just one day of a normal life.  Unfortunately God or whatever is supposed to be in control of this  doesn’t seem to want to be fair and give us a shot. Worse yet, a select few of those abnormal people get to be even more abnormal than the rest. Some of them, I included, are helplessly addicted to the way their lives are. If we could be normal, we wouldn’t even though being abnormal tortures us. Being weird is the only thing that makes me special. I’m not a genius or a talented person, I’m just weird. And that’s all that I have.

How sad is it that I’m like that? It’s almost funny. I’m so worthless that I’m dependent on being f*****g insane to stand out. People look at me with paranoid eyes and watch what they say because I’m a madman but still I can’t give it up. It’s just pathetic. This is no way for a human being to live.

Then again when I look at normal people, there’s a part of me that feels that they’re just as mad as I am. They’re just mad in a different way. Their apathy and contentment with their own flaws has worn out everything that should have mattered to them. They’re so content running in circles that they’ll ignore their children, their dreams, hell they’ll fight for anyway to escape reality. Even to me, that’s sad. I hate the world I have to live in but I’m still here fighting. Fighting to find a place that doesn’t f*****g suck so bad might just be the only real comfort I have left. It doesn’t change how things are and it probably won’t change the inevitable moment of realization that I can’t change how fate will play out but it gives me something I guess. It may not bring me happiness or stop the aching in my stomach but it gives me something to hold onto. It’s strange how the kind of unwillingness to accept what I know is the truth is the only thing keeping me alive. I just don’t understand how life can be like that. I’m supposed to be the mad one but from where I stand it seems like despite being very crazy, I’m still sane. Where as those normal people seem to be quite crazy and we all just fit together as one whole mad species. Funny...

Author's Note

This is the second installment in something I might turn into a series. Please comment on the grammar, sentence structure, and word phrasing. Also please feel free to read the first installment and tell me how the tone flows with the first one. Does it seem consistent?