I don't think anyone reads this shit anymore. So I can just as well go ahead and write whatever is on my mind. Just get it off my head.

Things are the way they have always been. No doubt, the climate changes and I listen to different music, but the subjects, the topics- they're all the same. I thought I had passed the phase of ugly puberty, where everything is hell and you feel unloved and you want to kill yourself or at least dye your hair black and listen to Dashboard Confessional. But I haven't. I haven't passed anything. I'm still there, same old, same old.

Take this, for example: I'm mad. I'm fucking disappointed and I am putting all the blame on one person, yet again, as always. I sit here and wait for a phone call, all day and all night long. I can hardly do anything else, because fuck knows how cold my brain's gonna freeze if I miss it. So I wait. And I keep waiting. And it's unlike anything I've ever felt, this sheer disappointment, this anger and the unfuckingbelievable pain that is in my heart. Because of that one person that is just not here, and not calling.

And not showing up when they promise to. Meanwhile, I'm here and thinking of them and making them mixtapes and looking forward to the next time we'll see each other, and I'm dreaming of them and I'm trying not to think about how it is when we used to .... do whatever together, and I'm fucking doing their homework and what I get in return is nothing. By all means, everyone with an IQ higher than the retardation limit would now pack their things and leave this crappy relationship, but of course, I'm still here, and I'm not letting it die. And that's why I'm so mad, anyway. It's because I'm letting everyone abuse me as usual, and I'm being nice because I'm the most emotional piece of shit.

So I try to be cold, to be rejecting, but so what? Either they'll be pissed at me - and that'd hurt - or they wouldn't care enough to bother. I know we're friends, but it's always an individual conception of things. I'm head over heels. They're just a little interested. Does it hurt to knows this? Yes, it does. It hurts a lot. Can I do anything about it? I try.

And again, the ultimate resolution follows: I hate people. I have lost hope in the human kind. I don't want to have friends anymore. I want to be distanced. I want to be away.

I feel like it's enough right now.

Oh, winter depression! Nothing like sitting at home alone, waiting for the cool people (a.k.a red-assed baboons a.k.a my so-called friends) to call me up and invite me to- well, to do whatever it is!

No, nope- instead of doing that funky stuff I sit at home, sort out my Itunes library, find new music and cry to it. I've never felt so dearly Emo. It's like I invented MySpace again: this time, we cut down the road, not across!

Seriously though, it's two days to my winter vacation and all I can think of is how cool school is. It sure is stressful, but at least I get to see some people. Or that person. Sometimes it's only about that person. And she's what's making me feel so sick, to sum it all up. No one else can cheer me up but her. Or that's what it feels like.

But before we sink into my deeply hurt soul, fellow readers (or whoever's left here, anyway), let us just take a minute to cry on my desperate state of sexual frustration.
...

Great. That felt good.

Now, there are many days to come yet where I'll be lonely and without anyone here to offer me a gentle pad on the shoulders when it seems as if no one gets me in this world. I should be sad about it, shouldn't I?

But NO! Behold! I will simply take drugs, won't I.
Ah God, who am I kidding here. I suck, people. And I need real friends.

My life is a stretched out yawn in slo-mo right now. I have made it my top priority to neglect everything important, postpone deadlines and basically being the perfect procrastinator by watching random shows on alluc.org. My current obsession is Scrubs. I love Scrubs. I want to marry Zack Braff. Please now.

School is getting worse. Haleluja. I have found the best reason to drop out: I suck. I still haven't decided yet if that's really the best option to go for. First I have to make sure I'm getting that "Service Lady" job in Prague. I heard they work in cheap "motels" to make the stay for their "guests" as "convenient" as possible, despite the lack of TV's or mini bars. I think that is a good system.

I have found a girl that seems to be nice and cool to hang out with. Although I really much like her, I don't feel attracted to her at all. At least I don't think about how making out with her will be. I also don't think that I'd stand any chance in the world even if I was. That kind of makes me happy. We frequent some classes together, but she lives far away from here. Her drive to school takes her at least half an hour. That sucks.

Speaking of driving, I drive really good nowadays. I wish I had my own car. I'd really like the Porsche Cayenne. I figured my best chance to get one is to either go with the trading scheme or win it at the McDonalds monopoly contest. I couldn't trade my paperclip for even a pen, so I decided to stick with the fast food. You can see me at my local franchise every day at least once eating a super size menu in the hopes to get the right stickers. It's a drag and it's expensive, but it's alot of fun. The obvious consequence of getting fat can be neglected. I'm not having sex, anyway.

That is the main reason for my currently very sour attitude. Because of my masturbation-denial problem (I can't masturbate more than every other week because I'm lazy and hate thinking of sex which only gets me frustrated) I am very horny. At the sight of any good looking young man I will get nervous and shaky. Apparently, that is what drives them away.

So I've decided to call it an abstinence until my will is broken. This way it will look as if I've chosen that path of nonsexual encounters. Please don't pity me. I CHOSE TO BE LIKE THAT.

My pants are torn up and I look like a hobo. The RHCP concert rocked. I am in love with John Frusciante. My friends suck dick, but I really dig them nonetheless. I've smoked at least a cigarette every day since last year. I've lost a minimum of 250 € with poker ever since I started playing, and won maybe a total amount of 60 bucks. I want to go clubbing but never get around to. I enjoy staying at home and trying to break my top score in Minesweeper.

This is a cry for help.

PS: That dude I wrote about the other day, H.? He was in the newspapers on Thursday. Actually, there was a phantom sketch. Police were looking for a young man with that face, and it was obviously him, for armed robbery. The store is allegedly robbed (but I'm pretty sure it was him) is only a couple of meters next to where he lives. For all I know, the owner of that gift store could be his mother's best friend. I guess he's going to end in jail before he's dead. I'm too apathetic to feel anything right now. Please envy me.

Man, I just re-read the gibberish about my past again and I find it's a vomit of words, and I can't help but pity everyone who read that crap. I mean, not the content- the content is truthful and sincere as can be. But the style, the writing- lack of creativity or hey, talent, anyone?

I'm a writer sort of person. Not necessarily successful and also, nobody wants to really read what I write for the sake of my genius, but still I'm a writer. When I write for myself, say when I'm bored or traumatized by something, it usually turns out really good. But I can't share because it will most likely contain either a weird sexual fetish that is regarded as perverted by everyone I know, or it's a well-kept secret. The so called skeleton in the closet. These things I burn or trash as soon as I'm over it, and then write a post about how sad and depressed I am without giving any proper reason. And since I'll have given all the fuel into secret stuff I write, my posts are sullen and dull.

Not that I really care- I mean, sure, it's cool when people know what's going on in your head and take part of it and tell you their opinions- but I don't force anyone into reading this, mainly for the fact that I know I'm really no stunner.

Still, considering myself a writer, I'll be pissed off about blogging or writing anything at all that others can read. That's why I'll never be able to publish a book or write something else than short posts. It's because the really interesting thing (at least I think they are interesting) are my weaknesses, and I hate to share those... except lousy stories from the past, but those will turn out gruesome to anyone who likes to read a good novel because I write too emotionally to keep an order of things. No structure, no style, and since I'm no native English speaker also lack of vocabulary. Especially lack of vocabulary.

That's why I've taken on filler words such as "like", "dude", "man" or different phrases like "oh my god", "you know", "I mean"- useless. Ultimately, I suck. But you know what, I'm not going to dig further here- I'll just go and write it down on a sheet of paper that I'll tear up right afterwards. And yet, I'll feel better.

I figured it out and I must quickly write it down before I forget and then end up another ten years trying to solve the problem.

Okay, taking a deep breath.

I am not able to fall in love nor commit to any kind of serious relationship (there it is, the problem) because my expectations of such a relationship or a proper victim to fall in love with (yes, it's a victim, after all I'd stalk, capture and rape them) are too influenced by fictional characters of TV-shows and brainwashing society. It gave me a picture and an ideal of what my future SHOULD be that I can never, in real life, match up with. So all I have to do is change my taste in guys and I'll hook up soon enough, fall deeply in love, get married and have seven kids and a Chevrolet. Maybe even a Porsche Chayenne if he's a nerdy business man with money.

Oh please dear God, let him be a nerdy, good looking business guy with money. The Zach Braff kinda guy. Or Jason Bartha.

See what I mean?

All I have to do is change my habits in order to get my life working.
So easy.

I passed my mom's bedroom tonight, and I heard she was listening to some old Train song on TV, which got me thinking, hey, since when does your mom listen to (rather) new pop music. Or in fact, since when does she listen to any music at all?

Which reminded me that I haven't paid that much attention to her or her life in a long time. Actually, I haven't paid that much attention ever since I hit the age of 11, where things kind of went down for me.

It got me thinking. All that happened, I mean, it all got my head worked up really bad. The gross thing about it? Nothing really changed around me, but I know that inside, I'm a completely different person.

As soon as I hit puberty, I laid down any rules and moral standards I knew, despite having grown up in the worst scenario you could imagine: Relatively strict parents in a Western country. Not Iraq and not North Korea, but fucked up enough for me.

I took drugs and pumped everything possibly labeled as "bad" into my body; I got drunk and threw up on the pavement, I played along with the "big guys", having shots and girl fights and throwing fits on ace and doing random shit; sleeping out on the street, skinny dipping into the lake, shoplifting, hanging with the "gangsters", line after line, joint after joint- got drunk so bad I ended up in the hospital, I was the worst friend you could imagine. Sleeping through school and sneaking out at nights, sex with two people at the same time, and I'm talking about rumours here- because me, certainly, I can't remember anything of that. I just heard it. "Looks, that's S., let's see how fast we get her drunk and done tonight!"

Yep, that's me. I'd toy around with guns, play with fire, cut myself, beat little kids up and shout at elderly people. I'd go to concerts and everyone would back away from me because I was the dirtiest of them, I'd punch and pull hair and kick everyone, just because it's called moshing. Fuck the music.

Or, goddamn, cars! We'd jump right into them, 14 years old and no licence and not even close to legal, I'd hit the gas and speed away on the freeway, completely under the influence. Breaking into peoples backyards to hit our bongs right there, next to the fluorescent light of the swimming pool and in it, our reflections and then just jump right into it, with clothes, without clothes, who cares.

Spin the bottle, Aids, rape, who cares? Mugging people in the subway, breaking bottles at the stations, running away from the cops, spraying the landscape, pissing on sideways. That's the girlfriend you would really wanna have, dont you all?

And nowadays.. where do I start? I'm afraid of driving faster than 30 mp/h, I haven't been drunk in ages, my last sex is 3 months ago and I could never even bring the word "gay" beyond my head. I shower every day and I listen to Jack Johnson while fantasizing about Australia. I tutor kids at school and I'm having good grades. I don't lie to my parents all that shamelessly anymore, at least I feel bad when I do so. My diet is healthy, I'm not as broke as I could be and I'm taking care of my older brother while he's screwing up his life big ghetto style. Being out after 11PM frightens me, I dream of having six children and.. just a normal goddamn life.

I'm sitting in the theater or I'm reading a book, or in the rare occasions when I'm out at a bar, discussing Nietzsche or Freud with my so sophisticated friends, I look out of the windows and I see fourteen year olds staggering down the street with empty bottles in their hand and a lit fag in their mouth and I feel like I belong right there, right with the dirt, gimme all that.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not feeling as if I'm missing out on something. It's just that I miss my old self, you know? I know back then I just had to take some risks to fight the loneliness and the black shadows that surrounded me, those that I created on my very own. It's not so long ago that this fog lifted and I can see clearer. I don't feel particularly better, but at least I do see why I'm feeling so dried out and tired...

Well, whatever. Just sayin'.

It's really alot better to have a platonic friendship with a guy who's cute.
It's also really alot better when he's your best friend and YOU are the one who doesn't want to get physical.

What I like about kittens is that they are stylish and clean. I don't like dogs because I dream I'd have to kill them.

My Sony Ericsson is lovely and absolutely precious.

I'm broke again, and this time poker stroke.

I still don't have any girlfriends.

I hate Ramadan, I hate Islam, I hate religions, and sometimes I hate my family.

I'm floating through my bubble gum world waiting for the next best series to get my head around so I can forget my life for a while again.

I'm very boring sometimes.

If people would listen to me, they'd know that I'm almost always right. They'd have a much better life because they'd just have to ask me, and I'd tell them what's the what. They'd just have to believe what I say, and usually, I'm right, and when I'm not then I always tell them that I'm not sure.

Instead I have to watch people ruining their lives over small crappy things that could've been avoided if they only believed one word I said.

As opposed to everything I've ever dreamed of being, I've become more or less a poker addict. This is not a bad thing seeing as sometimes I will finance my other addiction, cigarettes, through the game. But it's pretty bad on the run, pretty expensive while I'm losing.

It's cool though, and it's fun. It gives me an excuse to hang out with the guys. Problem is, I haven't been hanging out with many girls lately, and I can already feel it. It crawls up on me, that emotion. GIRL CRAVING. And I don't mean that sexually, just the presence of a female companion that shares my thoughts and feelings. At least while menstruating, we should feel similar.

And then I'd tell her stuff like how my semi-crush already has a girlfriend. I'd add that hey, he's not really my type and he's short and he's a skateboard freak with a stoner attitude, but he's kinda cute, too. So I'm not heartbroken or thinking of him all the time, but he was a potential and now I can strike him off my list. Sometimes it's that easy.
We'd probably laugh and joke about it, she'd insist it breaks my heart and I'll have to convince her it really doesn't at all.

Then I'd make her share my joy for kittens. How cute they are, and meanwhile, we'd watch Sex and The City re-runs and eat salty chips, or cook! We'd cook pasta and I'd probably ruin the sauce or break some plates and she'd say that I'm clumsy because she's girly, and she knows how to cook. And shit like that wouldn't happen to her.

We'd paint our fingernails, hers would be French, mine a disaster. And the obligatory hot guys of the day talk where she can list me at least 10 new guys I haven't heard of, may they be prominent or just random blokes from our school, while I can only think of hot women and mention those and in the same take of breath convince her that I'm neither gay nor bisexual.

Sooner or later, we'll start having our periods together, she'll get on my nerves, we'll have some fights, I'd talk about how hard it is to hang out with chicks and listen to all their cheesy stuff about guys and make up and shopping and hang out with guys again. Either that or crush on her, which pretty much concludes the same way.

Well, I can't be rescued, I'm damned to be some type of guy rather than a girl.

This is the first time I'm really thinking about what I'm going to do with my life after school. So here are my options:

- University. Sounds cool, except if I really wanted to go to University, I'd have to get my ass to do some work right now so I can study whatever subject I want. The subjects of choice right now would be medicine (out of reach, I'm too lousy of a student for that) or journalism (no talent whatsoever). I can just as well forget it.
- Work & Travel. No money to do that.
- Nothing. Which would make my parents make me get married. Not so much my style, thank you very much.

To conclude, I have no fucking idea. I feel so much better now that I've solved this.