ANOTHER BOOK OF BS INSTEAD OF SLEEP

Destructive-Type Brainwashing Song (Paradichlorobenzene)

"I'll never forget the day he brought me flowers. Eight of them to be exact. Because he knew I would be the only one that understood the message."

He bought me flowers.

Alright.

Eight flowers.

Eight for the eight years we've known each other.

Eight for the eight years he's tried to convince me that I'm a good person.

I won't accept this.

I'm not cute. I'm a lanky, awkward dumbass who's too socially awkward for shit and can't sleep. I'm too sarcastic, and I don't remember things I should.

I love that I try to be a good person. Yes, I do care about that, but am I physically capable of it? Of course fucking not.

I agree that the small acts of kindness count, but I'm just a sentimental minority. No one else gives a shit about basic manners.

I also care about listening to people, and being listened to. No one listens to me. No one listens to anyone. The human tendency is to direct any conversation towards themself.

Why?

Humans are fucking assholes, that's why.

I hate humans. I really do. I just hate myself more.

I hate hypocrites more than anything else, but I am a hypocrite, and it's hypocritical to hate hypocrites if you are a hypocrite.

People think I'm fucking smart? Hell no. I just have a weirdly good memory. I'm extremely grateful for it, but then the more basic things in life I cannot fucking remember to save my paradichlorobenzene. Not my life, I don't give two shits if a truck just happens to run me over one day. I hope that happens.

I want everyone to forget me if I die.

I don't want to cause pain, but who the fuck cares about me? If I disappear, hardly anyone would notice. Sure, maybe they'd leave a few panicked messages then just list me as an asshole when I don't respond after months. Yeah, I can't respond if I'm dead.

If I decided not to interact with anyone for a day, no one would notice. Okay, except the neighbors who'll be spared from my daily ear rape/torturing of souls/practicing piano.

Why do I do anything?

Why am I alive?

Why the fuck did the elements in the periodic table bond in such a way that created the molecules that make up my body?

Why do the proteins that make up my Deoxyribonucleic Acid have to be cursed and create me?

Why didn't the world prevent my existence?

Why wasn't I born in a time period where I could've easily died and people would care even less?

I hate people.

I hate myself.

I hate everything about myself.

I'm not a good person.

I won't accept this.

I am physically incapable of being a good person.

My aspirations are too big, even though the things I aspire to be are in fields I know I'll never reach. That's just how it is. I can't so it. I can't accomplish anything.

I'm a failure.

I was doomed to fail from the second it occurred to my parents that they might someday have desired a child.

I'm a mistake.

I hope you don't know me.

I hope you never have the misfortune of knowing me.

I hope you hate me.

ǝ u ı ɥ ɔ ɐ ɯ ɓ u ı ʎ ɐ l s p o ɓ

is a bop