These are thoughts I am writing in frustration. I want this fact to be held firmly in mind all the way throughout the reading of this post. I will stop prefacing now and just dive in.
This is immature bullshit. You really annoy the fuck out of me sometimes. I don't understand you. You hold something in your hands, drop it, mourn and lament over it, then when it is somehow returned to you, you fuck it up again because you learned absolutely nothing the first time. You say the most dumb, inane shit and for no good reason. I really wish that, at the moment you think about saying most things, that you would just choose to keep your mouth closed instead or write it on a paper and set that sheet of paper on fire. The most recent events of yours don't help the matter. Constant assumptions in the negative and never a thought to what or how the other person feels and certainly never over how you feel about it most of which is completely and totally either unfounded, asinine or both. On the same subject, I cannot understand how you being who and what you are could be so afraid of everything meaningful about life. This, too, frustrates me many a time; how the hell can you be so willing to do stupid things and not take any time to deal with the important things which are right in front of you all the fucking time in anything resembling an effective, decisive way. I'm nearly in awe at the profound depth of your stupidity in some cases and ignorance in others. You really should get paid for it. Especially considering the deceptive package that stupidity comes wrapped in. The queries about where/what/how/when/why I'm saying/doing/being whatever I'm saying/doing/being also don't help. Shut the fuck up sometimes. It's not like you take/invite me everywhere you go, you know.
I am not hard to understand. I make efforts -- quite a few -- to be clear and concise and to the point. I try not to belittle or make light of anyone's level of intelligence by oversimplifying or overexplaining things. That said, this just does not seem to work with you. It's not even just you, but the fact that it is you bothers me most because I am the most careful in speaking with you to not lose you; I put forth more effort to keep you with me in conversation and it never fails that, invariably, I lose you somehow. It can be -- and often is -- in the most minor of turns of phrase and often requires an explanation of at least a paragraph for two words which I feel, had context been taken into account, would be easy to understand. Since we usually use a written medium to communicate, context is very easy to access as it can be read and re-read multiple times as needed. It's unnerving when I have to speak to you about any and/or everything in paragraph form that I could say to another in two words. Mind you, there's a lot of things I don't mind going into detail or talking to you about at length just for the hell of it, but I can't deal with that tonight. I just want to know that at the very least you're trying to read the words I type and connect them to the ideas preceding and end up in the same area as me. It's just frustrating and saddening a bit.
Guys are on some serious serious serious serious serious serious bullshit when it comes to girls for the most part. I mean fucking clueless. Then they wonder about the drama and girls they end up with? Then ask me for my advice? Then ignore it? Oh fuck all of you.
I just want a clean house. That's all. It helps my peace. There's no reason we can't have that. Please tell me why, after I have spent more than an hour cleaning a room and leaving nothing on the floor, would you throw your pants on it? If you want to wear them later, lay them on the fucking chair!! It was only five feet away from where you dropped the pants. I don't care. You could have thrown them, but if you aren't going to help me clean, don't make a mess. The master bedroom has a bathroom. Use your own fucking bathroom. If you are going to use my bathroom, don't leave shorts or towels on the sink or the floor. Don't take my exfoliating cloth out of the bathroom. Don't leave cups on the coffee table in the living room. I mean, there are no babies here. Put your clothes in the hamper when you are done wearing them. Not the floor, but the hamper. The fucking hamper. It's not hard. That's what I did in addition to washing your clothes the other day. Then you came back home and, after not having cleaned your room for a month dare to say, "Well, I was thinking I needed to clean up and I was going to..." No the fuck you were not, you lying bastard. Again, just shut the fuck up and speak when you're spoken to. Then there are things like dishes and cups. It irritates me to the nth (and other letters) degree when I hear the home I live in being apologized for; "Please excuse the mess", "Sorry this is so messy". Fuck you. If you felt that way, you'd clean shit. You'd put cups in the fucking sink and not the living room.
If you lose important people in your life because of your lack of consistency, it will be no one's fault but your own, you idiot.
Watch and see if I'm not the only person that cleans up something this week. Oh wait, thank you for the couple of plates and cups you washed this week as I cleaned bedrooms, bathrooms and hallways. Also, thank you for my newly decorated wall (hole) and living room floor (warped particle board from water damage). The reasoning behind each of those things and why they happened... I can't even express my thoughts there. Absolutely unreal.
I'm so done on so many levels right now. I think I'm due for an emotional checkout of some kind.
This is immature bullshit. You really annoy the fuck out of me sometimes. I don't understand you. You hold something in your hands, drop it, mourn and lament over it, then when it is somehow returned to you, you fuck it up again because you learned absolutely nothing the first time. You say the most dumb, inane shit and for no good reason. I really wish that, at the moment you think about saying most things, that you would just choose to keep your mouth closed instead or write it on a paper and set that sheet of paper on fire. The most recent events of yours don't help the matter. Constant assumptions in the negative and never a thought to what or how the other person feels and certainly never over how you feel about it most of which is completely and totally either unfounded, asinine or both. On the same subject, I cannot understand how you being who and what you are could be so afraid of everything meaningful about life. This, too, frustrates me many a time; how the hell can you be so willing to do stupid things and not take any time to deal with the important things which are right in front of you all the fucking time in anything resembling an effective, decisive way. I'm nearly in awe at the profound depth of your stupidity in some cases and ignorance in others. You really should get paid for it. Especially considering the deceptive package that stupidity comes wrapped in. The queries about where/what/how/when/why I'm saying/doing/being whatever I'm saying/doing/being also don't help. Shut the fuck up sometimes. It's not like you take/invite me everywhere you go, you know.
I am not hard to understand. I make efforts -- quite a few -- to be clear and concise and to the point. I try not to belittle or make light of anyone's level of intelligence by oversimplifying or overexplaining things. That said, this just does not seem to work with you. It's not even just you, but the fact that it is you bothers me most because I am the most careful in speaking with you to not lose you; I put forth more effort to keep you with me in conversation and it never fails that, invariably, I lose you somehow. It can be -- and often is -- in the most minor of turns of phrase and often requires an explanation of at least a paragraph for two words which I feel, had context been taken into account, would be easy to understand. Since we usually use a written medium to communicate, context is very easy to access as it can be read and re-read multiple times as needed. It's unnerving when I have to speak to you about any and/or everything in paragraph form that I could say to another in two words. Mind you, there's a lot of things I don't mind going into detail or talking to you about at length just for the hell of it, but I can't deal with that tonight. I just want to know that at the very least you're trying to read the words I type and connect them to the ideas preceding and end up in the same area as me. It's just frustrating and saddening a bit.
Guys are on some serious serious serious serious serious serious bullshit when it comes to girls for the most part. I mean fucking clueless. Then they wonder about the drama and girls they end up with? Then ask me for my advice? Then ignore it? Oh fuck all of you.
I just want a clean house. That's all. It helps my peace. There's no reason we can't have that. Please tell me why, after I have spent more than an hour cleaning a room and leaving nothing on the floor, would you throw your pants on it? If you want to wear them later, lay them on the fucking chair!! It was only five feet away from where you dropped the pants. I don't care. You could have thrown them, but if you aren't going to help me clean, don't make a mess. The master bedroom has a bathroom. Use your own fucking bathroom. If you are going to use my bathroom, don't leave shorts or towels on the sink or the floor. Don't take my exfoliating cloth out of the bathroom. Don't leave cups on the coffee table in the living room. I mean, there are no babies here. Put your clothes in the hamper when you are done wearing them. Not the floor, but the hamper. The fucking hamper. It's not hard. That's what I did in addition to washing your clothes the other day. Then you came back home and, after not having cleaned your room for a month dare to say, "Well, I was thinking I needed to clean up and I was going to..." No the fuck you were not, you lying bastard. Again, just shut the fuck up and speak when you're spoken to. Then there are things like dishes and cups. It irritates me to the nth (and other letters) degree when I hear the home I live in being apologized for; "Please excuse the mess", "Sorry this is so messy". Fuck you. If you felt that way, you'd clean shit. You'd put cups in the fucking sink and not the living room.
If you lose important people in your life because of your lack of consistency, it will be no one's fault but your own, you idiot.
Watch and see if I'm not the only person that cleans up something this week. Oh wait, thank you for the couple of plates and cups you washed this week as I cleaned bedrooms, bathrooms and hallways. Also, thank you for my newly decorated wall (hole) and living room floor (warped particle board from water damage). The reasoning behind each of those things and why they happened... I can't even express my thoughts there. Absolutely unreal.
I'm so done on so many levels right now. I think I'm due for an emotional checkout of some kind.
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