I think it’s good to have a plan B or at least some sort of an escape plan. At some point the bottom will fall out and then what? No prayer or divine intervention is going to save you from staring at the hole where the bottom used to be. There’s never a warning either. You walk along thinking at some point that life could get better and then the goddamn bottom falls out.
I hate positive people because these smug bastards have a sturdy bottom that won’t fall out and they love to tell you that things are going to get better. How is that possible? I’m bottomless genious. I got no plan B, shit I didn’t think I needed one but apparently I do.
When the bottom does fall out it makes a loud sound that only you can here. The only words that truly describe the situation is; “Well fuck, I didn’t see that coming.” No one ever does. At some point I keep thinking that my life is finally improving and I’m fucking happy and then the bottom falls out.
The fucked up thing is that I’ve survived much worse. Sure it just adds another scar to my already battered existence but this is mild. If I told anyone what I’ve been through they’d be handing me a gun, some rope, and enough pills to kill a small city.
When is it going to be my time? When the fuck am I going to catch a break? Seriously, if anyone deserves a break it’s me. No, the hits just keep coming. I needed a plan B or at least a dose of reality. I should at least know that in my world happiness is fleeting. It’s a big giant tease designed to make me see just how good life can be and then the rug gets pulled out from under me and a pie gets shoved in my face while I’m flat on my back staring at the ceiling.
All of you optimistic mother fuckers piss me off. You sell lies and fairytales. Positive thinking and optimism haven’t worked out well for me and at this point I don’t see any silver linings in my stormy sky. I’ve figured that in some past life I treated someone like shit and karma is kicking my ass for it.
From this moment forward I’m shutting down and retreating inside myself. It’s safer that way. No more plastering on a fake smile and plowing through this shit one more time because it’s worked so well before. No more optimism or postive thinking either. I’ve lost faith in all that bullshit.
I have to come up with a plan B. It may take the rest of my life to come up with one but it’s in there somewhere. Plan A totally went well so let’s see how much I can fuck up plan B. What if this it? Me being stuck in my mother’s house shaking my fist at the sky wondering what I ever did to God to deserve all this.
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