I am nothing, I have nothing. No skill, no ability...nothing I can point to as something that sets me apart. Just another drone, another cog in the machine. Destined forever to be spectacularly average.
I look around and I see you all, doing things which your good at. Having something which you can point to as a vindication for your existence. A certificate on the wall, a notch on your belt.
Me? Pathetic, paltry. Nothing I can excel at, nothing I can do even remotley well. My personal statement is empty, my CV: void. A wall empty, a life wasted.
Funny isn't it. Finding out there's no afterlife, that existence ends at death; it doesn't bother me at all. I'm not fazed by the discovery that there is no purpose to anything. But the notion I am nothign specail?
My insides implode
And it's true. There isn't even a hint of skill in my body. My evenings are wasted fannying around the internet or revising (read: procrastinising revising).
I can't do anything.
Maybe that's why so much of what I do involves kids. If I hang around with those puny beings then I can actually be better than them at something.
Somehow I can empathise with BR even more in this state, like it counts for anything. Like. It. Fucking. Matters.
"Oh yeah, I can understand some random band"
"Better off dead, yeah, better than this.
Take it away 'cuz there's nothing to miss"
EDIT:
I just got took a survey. One of the questions was "what are your hobbys?"
I know people who could write a ton
I had to put "none"
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