You ever have those days where everything is good and fun and happy and then all of a sudden, one thing, one thing happens that just makes everything crash down?
This is one of those days.
We went to Legoland today for Father's Day (at my dad's request, not because we pressured him into choosing it) and it was a really fun day. We rode a bunch of rides, raved at how cute Miniland was, took a bunch of pictures, ate a bunch of unhealthy shit that will probably shorten my lifespan by a few minutes, introduced my sister to water slides, and at the end of the day we even won a stuffed Pikachu that was as big as my sister. It was great.
And then, I don't know, I just do a complete 180 when I get home. I don't know why, it might be a combination of a bunch of factors or it could just be something that's wrong with me, but a few hours later, as of writing this, I am pretty miserable.
Word of warning: I'm just gonna vent for a few paragraphs, so feel free to ignore this shit until you see the pretty pictures at the very bottom, with the mildly funny captions and whatever. Spare yourself from reading this garbage if you want to.
I mean I guess it's fun, exaggerating stuff about my life to hopefully bring at least a smile or a stupid laugh out of you guys and I hope that I at least have done that a few times, but to tell you the truth, it is exhausting. Not physically, mind you. I don't really give a shit how late I stay up writing this since I can just sleep in since it's summer. I mean emotionally.
It is fucking draining to pretend that every single aspect of my life is perfect and happy and covered in sugar rainbows or whatever lovey dovey frilly shit you guys believe that it contains. I mean god knows I already do that enough when I'm in public, I don't want to be wasting hours at home doing it on the Internet too. And I know that it's entirely my fault for that. Since day one of this blog (or hell, since day one of those emails I sent that did the same thing as this), I have written these for the sole purpose of entertaining people. And with that desire to entertain people naturally meant that I had to omit some things.
You guys read about the banquets, the parties, the funny stuff. But you don't read about the sleepless nights, the depression, the times where I've felt like total shit and couldn't even tell anyone because of this expectation that I'm supposed to be funny or happy or some other expression that vaguely resembles a smiley face. And that kills me.
I don't know if this is making sense or not since honestly, I'm so tired and my head is throbbing right now. But I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's hard to pretend that everything is fine all of the time. It's sometimes hard to write these entries because there are days where I have to wring out the happiest, funnest details of a day to convert into keystrokes even though inside, I want to die.
I really think this article from Cracked about Robin Williams' suicide really embodies how I feel sometimes, so give it a good read. And please, before you readers (if anyone even reads this) mass-message me on Facebook with your reassurances and your questions about what's wrong, I just want you to know that I'm okay right now. I might not be the happiest, but I'm not gonna do anything drastic. There's not much you guys can really do to change how I feel, other than just understand that sometimes, things are not exactly what they seem.
I'm not gonna turn this into a vent blog, because let's be honest, no one wants to read this shit on a daily basis. Tomorrow, I'll maybe upload all of the pictures I took from Legoland (and I took a lot, so that might take awhile), but for today, just have this giant block of text. Tomorrow, I'll go back to how this blog normally goes, but I'm gonna sleep this off, see if that helps any.
Oh, and here's the pretty picture, like I promised I would give you.
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| This puppy is blissfully unaware of the meaninglessness of its existence. Fantastic. (via wallpaperscraft.com) |
RFotD: Pugs are rated as the fourth wrinkliest dog in the world. In first place? Your grandmother.
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