Today:
- reunion with Shaq
- went running twice
- downloaded more music and movies
- finished most of my math for living here in Fayetteville
- had to reschedule my apartment meeting thingy
- enjoyed life
That was fun.
I enjoy spending time with you.
I miss you.
When I was younger, I read.
I really just want to move up to Boston already and go to the college of my dreams and get the job of my dreams and live life how I want to without having to worry about anything going wrong.
That’d be nice.
A lot of people tell me that they feel sorry for me because I’ve had to put up with my parents for seventeen years.
I don’t understand why.
I mean, yeah, my parents are insane, and I’ve hated living with them for as long as I remember, and anyone who has listened to them argue or anything knows how odd their ways of thinking are, but a lot of other people have a much worse situation than I do.
I don’t feel sorry for myself. I feel sorry for a lot of other people.
Yeah, there are a ridiculous amount of times in which I’ve been upset, on top of eight years of battling depression, but I still don’t feel sorry for myself.
I really don’t need a house or a bed or fancy things or even “necessities” to be happy.
The only thing I really need that’s considered a “necessity” is a place to shower and stuff. Other than that, I’d be fine with being a nomad/homeless person.
I think that most Americans are so consumed with the materialism that we see everywhere that they forget that none of it really matters.
I mean, when was the last time that owning a house in a fancy neighborhood filled with doctors and lawyers really helped someone?
How you treat other people and how you treat yourself matters. You can be happy with nothing if you’re content with your life.
