I'm a terrible person. People like me shouldn't exist. I wish I was stupid. I wish I was stupid and happy like everyone else. Content with what life was and is and always will be. I wish I could just hit my head on a wall repeatedly until I was dumb enough to be content with everything like an animal or something.
Nobody gets their shit together until a third of their life is over, and sometimes not even then. Why does it take so long? Why can nobody put anything into perspective right now? Life is short and wasting it is a real shame. If we're not living in the now then what are we living in? We have to pursue what we love in life or else we might not do anything with life at all. I'm not gonna sit around and wait for life to hand me what I want. But life won't let me have what I want. So what the fuck am I supposed to do? I guess I'm just done, then.
Things don't work out for people like me. I got the short end of the stick, I feel. Maybe sometimes we all get the short end. But I got the short end because I'm not happy when I get the short end. When things don't go my way, I don't try and act like they did. I realize how life works and how when it's over I'm going to have to look back and see whether or not it was worth it all.
Of course I know everything, I'm fucking Marcus. Why wouldn't I know everything? I've got a fancypants blog that I had to make to get some fucking attention because that's all I really want from life. I just want someone somewhere to acknowledge me for a second because without other people I'm nothing. I'm like a fucking parasite. What kind of a shitty ass organism isn't even self sufficient. I'll tell you what kind, the kind named Marcus Mayhew.
All I thought I wanted from life was to find that one person. That was my goal. Just one. And I guess I still have to look. I guess I've gotta waste my fucking time. I'm gonna spend all fucking day looking around for this piece of shit that everyone else got before me.
I remember one Easter my grandparents thought it would be good to take me to a park where they were doing a public easter egg hunt. I was excited, I had a trash bag to put the eggs in, and I was determined to get one. It started. I remember one after the other, every time I saw an egg, someone took it from under me. I gave up. I started crying. My grandparents felt bad, and some grown ups came and helped me find some that had been left over. And they gave me some they saved, anticipating the sad sack kid, I guess. I realize now that I made my grandparents sad a lot because I was a fucking brat. And now my grandma is dead. I can't ever go back and tell her that even though I was only five when she died, I appreciated what she did for me. And I'll never forget that night we were playing checkers and we tied in only a few turns and I didn't understand how that was possible, or that time I got bit by her dog because I decided to walk around the tree it was tied too, and she gave me an ice pack. I can't tell her that because she's gone. Life is short. We only get to do so much. And sometimes it sucks to think that maybe things won't work out the way we want them to. It sucks a lot.
Maybe one day I'll get to tell my grandma how much I actually loved her. Maybe I won't. Maybe I'll find that person who I've been looking for all my life, and maybe I won't. I guess we'll find out somewhere in the next ten years.
Marcus
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