So Long - And Thanks For All The Fish

I've decided to stop. Stop writing utterly ridiculous crap that no one reads or cares about. So thank you. And goodbye.

Or at least I had, until I got a bit cross with myself. And realised that to do that is just to run away again, isn't it, and I am very good at that.

Perhaps it is time for me to joyfully roll about in the shit that is stuff I am rubbish at. Over time, running away will become one of the many things that I am terrible at.

It'll be difficult, and I will fail many times, but I will succeed in the end. I will most likely fall over a few times too, which is another area I do well in. I will do it, because I have to. Otherwise, I can see stupidity rolling on and on, never getting dealt with, just building up and irritating me, keeping me awake and driving me crazy.

To clarify - I am a bit mad. Not in the "O'im crazzzzeeeyyy oi am! Look at me wearing stripes and spots together!" way but in a fucking cocoa coated sugar puff for breakfast, lunch and tea, wibble wibble there goes my sausage type way. My brain doesn't shut up and do what I want it to. I'm about as funny as a death in the family, and as appropriate as a roast pig at a bar mitzvah.

I do stuff just because I want people to like me, even when I don't like them, or even care about them. See - fucking mental. Even if I do like someone, they don't have to like me, they don't even have to afford me the same respect as I do them, which is equally distributed between those I do and don't like. Again, mental. Just because I like to be kind and decent it doesn't mean that everyone is.

You can read anything you want to into that, because although I want you to like me, I don't actually give a flying fuck if you do. Well, I do a bit, but let's face it, another disappointment won't kill me, will it? I've been through worse.

This isn't about The Ex or anything else in particular. It's just about me being depressed and having a horrific low that has been building for a time and has now decided to literally shove itself into my face, waving and shouting "helllllloooooo, you can't ignore me anymore." I don't want to joke my way out of. I don't want to wince pointedly and change the subject rapidly when you ask me about it. I don't want to say "fine" when I mean "utter fucking shit". I want to be able to say "actually, this is about ME, not having ME but being me and cracking on with shit daily whilst you whinge about inconsequential shit" and quite frankly if you can't handle that, get the fuck off my blog.