While reading “Rant” by Chuck Palahniuk you come to the realization that no matter what you do and achieve, your story will be told so differently from how you actually lived it. Sadder, maybe, more sensational perhaps.

Lately and after graduation I’ve been in a very peculiar mood. I don’t know if its all the work I do that doesn’t seem to be enough to pay the bills, or going out and facing the same crowd, the same drinks, the same music, the same red and blue neon lights. Maybe I’m sick of not living by myself, of having to be oh-so-fucking thoughtfull around the house and being able to only be naked inside my bathroom and room and not in my kitchen. maybe it’s because I think sex is overrated and I think of more productive things to do, like reading, grinding levels, or learning japanese. Maybe I’m sick of debt collectors, of my grandmother and her eternal grief, of stupid personality competitions on all social networks, of my sister being on her path to destruction before being legal.

Or maybe I just need to leave this humid and hot country.


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