If the tears are in piles on the floor, and you haven't a sight left which your eyes are good for, you're pretty well in a funk.
When you don't give a rat's tukis about any of it, and you just want to sit in the corner and watch the world die, you're pretty well depressed.
When your life is shit, what do you do?
When noone cares, what do you do?
This is your stop, mon ami.
There are various things you can do to lift yourself out of this hole you have made. These are only a few suggestions, however it is help, and it works. Over 30,000 bored angst-teens can't be wrong, eh?
Return to your abode, and set off a corner of the room (especially the one you defacate in: free fertiliser!), and toss a load of dirt in there. A whole mound of black soil from the front court of the apartment building, or neighbour's immaculately kept lawn. Plop down you flowers, and pack the dirt around them tight. Go out to your shed, and find a hose. Attach this to your kitchen sink, should you have running water, and drag it upstairs to water them in. NOTE: sprinkle the foliage with the least amount of h2o, letting the majority of it sink into th soil. Then sit back with a can of your favourite Planters' cheez snack, and watch them grow and prosper.
Don't water them ever again. Make sure you keep the blinds closed at all hours of daylight. After about four to five days, the plants will begin to lose turgidity, i.e.-they fucking dehydrate. As they begin to wilt, notice how frail and drab the colours begin to get. Notice how the plants droop in the spent earth, crying out for water. Pay close attention to how long it takes for the creeping brown of death to encompass the plant.
After all the plants have gone into compost, and the worms take over, look yourself up and down. That plant was a fucking loser! You just killed the fucking thing without a struggle!! You survived; you're GOD to those plants! Wear a smile, and go out to flaunt this fact to the world. (For a greater effect, do this with seeds, so you can give them life, and then take it away.)
When you're feeling like being a recluse, nothing comes in handy more than a book. So while you sit there reading some Kevorkian or Greek Tragedy, pondering which vein to use and something witty to write on the walls with your dying blood, I urge you to rethink: Pick up a happier book, who knows, it might just brighten your spirits; dare I say, even make you want to buy goldfish.
Here are the choices that are especially heart-warming:
Thus Spoke Zarathrustra, Friedrich Nietzsche.
The premis of the book is thus: You are what you make yourself, morals and livelyhood. Christ is dead, and he never mattered. Make yourself a superman, and rule the world, which is shit under your heel. A good read, especially the German edition.
Go Ask Alice... Unknown Author.
A diary of a teen growing up in the sixties, who gets addicted to many drugs, runs away, comes home, cleans up, and still gets fucked over and dies. The funny part is, her old friends who she smoked with give her an overdose, and she flips out and kills a kid. Hilarious stuff, and true!
Straight Talk About Masturbation, Associated French Press.
Explains the truths and myths about self-abuse. HAs a handy tips-section for you beginners, as well as an advice section, which replies to many actual letters, sent in by kids just like you! I hear the fourth edition is going to include a history on the sanitoriums of the 1890's, which were started by Andrew Kellogg and John Post to cure self-abusing teens. They went on to get famous for their "reform-foods", cereals. Also includes Frederick Graham, the inventor of the graham-cracker; begot for the same reasons.
Stinky-Cheese Man, and other fairly stupid tales. Jon Scieszka & Lane Smith.
A manic fucking book, with a third grade reading level required. Classic tales like "Princess and the Pea," and "Little Red Riding Hood," absolutely ass-raped into "the Princess and the Bowling Ball," and "little Red Running Shorts." So twisted, you have to smoke crack to get it all.
My Autobiography, pako puke.
After reading this trash, you have no choice but to feel really, really good about your self. *whimper*
You'll always have old reliable sitting there next to your bed, taunting you with words like, "codependency", or, "emotional dodging." Crack open that bottle, and take a sip. Taste good? Yeah... I bet. Take another... is it starting to kick in yet? Feeling better? Good! Finish that bottle.... have another... now, go to your window, and wrap the cord around you hand, and PULL THE FUCKING SHADES UP! SEE THAT?! IT'S SUNLIGHT, YOU ALCOHOLIC!! TAKE A FLIPPIN BATH, YOU STINK LIKE SHIT!! HAVE SOME COFFEE, DRUNKARD!! GO SIT OUTSIDE, BREATHE A LITTLE. Live, you zombie.
copyright©1997, the Gods of PunkRock, you Zombie.