I get this distinct impression that I have friends that are only existent because I can make them look good, or because I can tell a story, or because I can make them look like they aren’t shallow as fuck, even though they are.

I get this distinct impression that I am fading quickly, or not so quickly, depending on who you are and where I’ve planted my seeds. I get this distinct impression that I am fucking sick of associating myself from fake people.From people that live a life and then tell me they hate it. From people that pretend to be in love when they aren’t. Or pretending to love me when they don’t, or more accurately, never did.

I’m tired of associating myself among the vapid and insincere, and I am tired of people accepting these people as that, because that’s all they know how to be. I get this distinct impression that I am being pulled down by the weight of people’s nothingness and I am fucking sick of that.

So I am going to start where I should have months ago. I am going to stop making new friends, not because it makes me sad anymore, but because I am fucking embarrassed. I realized a few minutes ago that I hate some people more than I love them, and that’s what gets under my skin. It isn’t because I know I hate them, it’s because how much it plagues me that part of me still doesn’t.

Some people don’t deserve second chances, or third chances, or fourth chances. Some people deserve nothing but a life of falsehood and misery. And I sincerely hope they get it. And it’s not because I’m bitter, even though I most certainly am. It’s not because I am angry, even though I most certainly am. It’s because I am sick of you. I am so sick of you, and I want to puke at the sight of your stupidity and the essence of your entire fucking existence.

Fuck you.

This is step one. I get the distinct impression that some people never deserved me, and not the other way around. By the way, I also found out that some things just end.

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