This one may be a little too specific to my life, but hey, why else am I writing this?
To the person who didn’t want to stop for that red light, but was too much of a pussy to run it; I know you are aware that you ended up essentially parking in the middle of the pedestrian crossing that I was about to use. In my attempt to make eye contact in the hopes that something would trigger in your brain, and you would say something along the lines of “oops, sorry”, I was met with your vacant stare that was deliberately directed through me. Clearly had I attempted to find a brain in there, I would have been at a loss. Get some fucking awareness of your surroundings. You’re a Dick.
To the self righteous asshole who wrote that fucking song about millennials; You have made a gross generalisation about an entire generation. What the fuck. The pointless lines about the stereotypical appearance of millennials- The “man bun and facial hair” or someone who takes selfies and wears yoga pants- putting any kind of weight on what people look like to be any indicator of their behaviour sounds a lot like discrimination to me. Claiming that “Criticism isn’t easy for their ears” is also pointless in this context, especially since you probably wouldn’t know, considering the entire song reads more like a discriminatory attack. You strike me as the kind of person who would argue that there’s no such thing as a clitoris, purely because you don’t know where it is. Don’t even get me started on the fact that you seem genuinely worried about having a millennial as president… I’m sorry but where the fuck is the next one supposed to come from? Do you propose presidents just get older and older until all of Gen X and prior have died out, at which point we say “guess there won’t be any more presidents now, better that than have a millennial filling the spot”. For fuck’s sake. You’re a Dick.
These next two are old news, but yes, I’m still pissed.
To the little piece of shit who has enough ignorance to say that instead of having periods, women should just “hold their bladder”; Where are your parents? How do I tell them they have failed on a colossal fucking scale? The fact that you refused to even hear about it when someone tried to explain to you what happens? Inexcusable. How about I come over there and stab you in the taint once a month and see if you can help that. Fuck you in particular. You’re a Dick.
Ok, and to the group of absolute fucking monumental cunts who decided it would be a good idea to drag a baby dolphin out of the ocean, just so you could take selfies with it. What kind of inbred, braindead Neanderthals did your parents have to be in order to produce you? I don’t tend to wish death on anyone, but since you are all scum of the fucking earth, I wish it gladly. I’d kill you all myself if I knew any of your names. You are all Dicks.
OK. so I like to think of myself as a pretty well adjusted, independent woman. But sometimes, as much as it is a pain in my ass, and as much as I like to think I can do literally everything on my own, the sad reality of it is that I can’t. Sooner or later I’m going to have to rely on a person or group of people to get something done.
Now, when I ask for something (once in a fucking blue moon), I have some expectation that the person I am asking is going to take into consideration that; a) it’s probably pretty important to me and b) I’m not a raving fucking lunatic so chances are, it’ll be pretty pissing doable. However. For some un-fucking-fathomable reason, people decide that it’s ok to just go “yeah, yeah. I’ll do that thing” or “sure, I’ll be there” AND THEN NOT DO THE THING.
Why. WHY in the hell would anyone be such a festering dickwad as to commit to something and then just decide that whatever it is, is much less important than some benign shit that they decide to do instead, which, lets be honest, given the kinds of people who pull this shit, is likely to be sitting down staring at a blank wall, with less than nothing going through what is likely to be a fraction of a brain cell.
If you do this; Fuck You. You’ve made a conscious decision to let someone down, and you deserve for no one to ever say yes to whatever shit you want them to do. Fuck you, Fuck off, Fuck this.
Most people have emotions. I’m almost sure I’m one of these people, but it seems like pretty much the only emotion I actually notice is sadness. It’s the one that puts it’s little tentacle up, and says “hello“.
I hear people talk about their depression and how they wake up and they just feel heavier, or more tired or just not right. I don’t know if that’s how it works for me, I don’t know how to identify it. For everyone else, even though the experience might be foggy, they’re still sure it’s happening.
I’ve entertained the thought that I might be bipolar. If I have a feeling, it tends to be very sad, and sometimes I get really excited about life. But most of the time there’s a whole lot of nothing. Maybe I don’t have the normal range of emotions, I don’t know if I’m depressed, and I don’t know if there’s even anything going on, I might just be a normal person who gets a bit sad sometimes.
I do know that it stops me from functioning at my already-inhibited level. I can barely feed myself, my house doesn’t get cleaned, it’s a miracle my cat is still alive. But I don’t know if that’s enough to call it anything. I don’t want to complain about feeling tired or unmotivated. I don’t want to tell people that no, I don’t want to hang out, because it won’t be fun, because nothing is anymore. I’m not part of the self-harm club, but I will say one thing about life; it continues, and I’m not sure how much I like that.
Maybe I should talk about it. It would be nice if I had a proper family. It would probably also be nice to be the kind of person who feels ok to just ask a friend over if I’m feeling a bit shite. But it’s my fault. I can’t expect people to read minds, so why should I bother feeling alone when I don’t ask anyone to be there?
Who knows, I’ll probably feel fine tomorrow.
To the people who have, for some stupid fucking reason, attached speakers to the front of their cars and or bicycles; Why. The. Fuck. Do you honestly think that blaring your music out the front of your vehicle is going to make it sound any better? And do you think the rest of us want to hear it? I couldn’t give two shits if you’re blasting rap or fucking Enya, I don’t want to hear it. Especially not in the middle of the night. You’re a dick.
I could write an entire essay on dicks on the bus but this one is for people with bags. Sure, you can take a seat, and sure, you can carry a bag with you, but if the bus is full, then why is your bag taking up an entire seat next to you? I would get it if it was a massive bag, but then I would also question why it isn’t in that little area where you put things like suitcases. But a little tote bag? a whole seat? I’ve seen one girl, sat on an aisle seat, decide to take up the seat across the aisle from her. WHY. You’re a dick.
To people who sit in the middle of benches. What’s your aim here? Do you want to inconvenience people who are looking for a spot to rest, eat lunch or just sit and look at whatever shit you’re currently looking at? Or are you so fucking lonely that you’ve placed yourself in a position where, should someone choose to sit down, they’re so needlessly close to you that you can probably figure out the exact ingredients their breakfast was made of just be the smell of their breath? Either way, this behaviour screams “I am the centre of the universe and also super important“. You’re a dick.
I was going to spare you the explanation as to what exactly this is and, well, why. Since this blog is here purely for myself and no one else, I didn’t think it would be necessary. But hey, I guess I’m a private exhibitionist. It’s probably why I enjoy living by myself, so I can walk around naked in the privacy of my own home.
So this exists. Not because I think my ideas are great, and not because I think my words carry any particular meaning, but for one very simple reason; I do not want to start arguments. This is the space where I am going to put all of those facebook posts that never became facebook posts, and those conversations I never started. Because to put it plainly these are my opinions and arguments about them are straight up unnecessary. Basically, this is a place for me to gripe, without other people telling me I’m whingeing.
The name I can tell you, is based on a very good piece of advice I was given when I was very young; “What other people think of me is none of my business“. In a way I live by this. So, with that in mind; if, by whatever miniscule chance, you come across this blog, and you have been offended by anything I have expressed, kindly, fuck off. Other people’s opinions are their problems, so my opinions? my problem.