Progress I guess

We're moving slowly forward, trickling. This is called writers block. I'm not a writer in this instance of course, but it fits.

Why, I've always approached these projects I've been doing for several years with a devil may care attitude. I honestly toss them together in a pot, shake it up, and don't give two fucks what it ends up as just that it's done.

So fail man...

I guess I'm depressed, yunno. Not even for legitimate reasons. It's hilarious to still be stuck in this house and be harassed by my parents. Their reasoning and logic is the stuff of either nightmares or the best comedy. The accusations of having depression and shit that they throw at me, then of course I have to suffer the foulest odor my father produces as he's incapable of holding his bladder in his advancing age and smells of urine constantly. So he wafts his smell into my room and accuses me of having depression. I can tell you why I have depression buddy. I try to have a sense of humor about it, but to see this person I know from childhood going down hill physically and mentally and having no give a damns about trying to improve or help himself is truly sad. When he dies, it will be a good thing. I'll not think of it as a loss but finally his horrible existence mercifully being put down. Sick way to think you might say. It's been a sick life I've lived my friends...

I guess also I don't want it to end. This project is all I have in the world. I have no girlfriend. I can assure you, I'd be out living life if I had a good goddamn girlfriend to do it with. I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be stupidly watching endless youtube nerd bullshit. I would be grabbing the finest titties and ass and smiling ear to ear... oh my god.

Will things turn around. I don't bet on such things. Not a lucky guy, sadly. Don't know where I'm going or what the hell I'm doing. I only know I have to work very hard today, and however long it takes and finish what I started, goddamnit.