Just cause we don’t have Louie Vuitton bags or diamond jewelry doesn’t mean I need help. Just cause I don’t buy overpriced sneakers doesn’t mean I’m gonna gladly accept your old shitty pair. Just wait… Just wait… Just because I don’t waste my money on simple material desires doesn’t mean I am willing to do anything or beg. Just because I’m not wasteful, doesn’t mean I’m charity.
I don’t know anymore. This is going to be very long. I am fucking angry. I’m angry at you, at myself, at existence. At being. I don’t know why, exactly. I can’t pinpoint it. There are myriad tiny, trivial things. I feel like my life has surpassed simple hilarity and moved into the realm of the pathetic. It’s not that I’m overweight. It’s not that I’m ugly. It’s not that I lack confidence. It’s that none of these things matter.
I see people post things online who complain they are fat, or
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So, why me? That’s the question I’ve been asking ‘God’ for quite some time. And it was his response that I never received that led me to be an Agnostic.
So, what’s the problem? Well, it’s simple and complicated but I will try not to take up too much text space.
First off, I’m a 20 year old male. I live in Orange County, California. My parents divorced when I was 6 years old. My Dad never really gave me any attention growing up because he was too busy with work and such, and when I got older,
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What happened to the past? When everything was simple, people seemed to help out total strangers in need, and there didn’t seem to be so much drama everywhere. It didn’t feel like everyone was out for themselves…not to say that the present isn’t too horrible, it just feels like we’re missing something.
Maybe it’s just the depression talking.