Is it safe?

If you've somehow come across this blog, congratulations, you are either:

1) The creepiest creeper that ever did creep,
2) Pathologically bored, or
3) A Googler of phrases such as "Talk to me, goose," "Never forget," and "Goodnight and goodbye," AKA awesome.

Either way, I'm about to spout off some really vague, emo crap. I do this because:

1) I don't want anyone to know who I am, and
2) I have a proclivity for spouting off vague, emo crap.

And if you think I've given away clues as to my identity by way of my writing style, think again! I'm really not that into numeric lists (or am I?). The only condition I have for you not-yet-existent creepers of my blog is this: no falling in love with me.

Anyway, I'm in a bit of a situation, a situation that doesn't allow me to talk to people I actually know (not about the shit that matters to me, anyway). I tried talking about it on an anonymous forum, but it turns out those aren't really all that anonymous. But I've already said too much.

I just need a place to have my feelings and not be judged. Actually, it's not so much the judgment I care about, but the offense. Not matter what I say, no matter what face I make, no matter how I sleep or breathe, I seem to be hurting someone. And I don't really seem to know myself all that well lately, but I do know this: I don't want to hurt anyone.

I don't know where I'm supposed to be in life (or if there's a even specific situation that is actually best for each of us; jury's out on whether we're screwed no matter what we do). I can safely say, however, that I've made some really bad decisions. I'm not quite sure which ones were the bad decisions, but the decisions I've made have certainly conflicted with one another.

It's like this:



It's appropriate that the clip deals with insanity, because I feel like I might just be a loon at this point. I don't think I'll commit myself to a mental hospital for life if I indulge in my flaws, but I will probably commit myself to a life of unrest.

It's also like this:



I'm beginning to think the phrase "I just want you to be happy," is a cruel joke played on humanity. You do what makes you immediately happy, and you're hedonistic. You do what you think will make you happy in the long run, and you risk being unhappy forever. Is it worth the risk? Is it? How do you know?

And what if you do that thing that promises lifelong happiness and something else brings you immediate happiness in the meantime? Why is it so noble to stay unhappy for the sake of a long-term happiness we don't even know exists?

I used to think that making other people happy made me happy. And now I'm very sad.

I could jump from happiness to happiness forever. I'm cute enough to do that (I really am crazy good-looking--it's a curse).

It's also a curse to be smart. Dumbasses can be happy forever.

Cuz it's like this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-g-FEv1RwFg

Won't let me embed. Fucker. But if you found your way here and can understand what he's saying in the embeddable Italian clip, I rescind my "don't fall in love with me" condition.