SHUT UP

The wonder of existence confounds me in its attempts to make me feel bad. I constantly hate the state of my acne, loath the peculiarities of my body, and wallow in the shame of my being. I can only assume that it comes with the job of maintaining one's personal self, but it really blows. Blows ass.

Why should I hate being me? Well, there are many reasons, I'm sure, but I need to get over them. I only get one chance to exist, and this is it. Quit being such an insignificant slouch and stand up to be the mother fucker you were intended to be.

I really don't want to be a mother fucker, unless I plan on having children. The last thing I need right now is children.

What the hell am I writing about? I can't even seem to recall. Something about existing.

What a terrible place to use a writing convention, recalling sentences past as though they happened a few pages back. I knew the whole time what I was writing about, more or less. This is all just the ethereal spew my mind bakes for me on an hour to hour basis. It constantly trods me into the dirt and makes me feel sub par.

But at other times I feel like I just turned a huge spliff into ash. The world is mine, every one of the funny body parts and all. I can take anything I want, be anything I want, eat anything I want, drink anything I want, and ultimately explode into a ball of ash from being such a proactive guy.

But right now? I work 9-5 (more or less) and sit on my ass in front of the TV for at least two hours a day. Granted those two hours are generally spent being sedentary while eating or not being sedentary while working out, but TV ultimately eats those two hours of my life. Why am I such a waste?!

But I'm not a waste. Here I am typing out this completely unreadable drivel in an attempt to be creative. I haven't drawn anything in months and I'm supposedly going to be in an art show? Me? No, that can't be right...

...Or could it? Could this be any more predictable? Could I really have the stones to live as an artist? I do plan on moving to Chicago to do just that, and I'm slowly trading the life I've built here in Nowhere, Ohio to do it. Is it possible for me to draw stupid cartoon animals for a museum that no one has ever heard of?

I guess I could.

I should tattoo "SHUT UP" on my chest upside down, as a reminder.