My company for the last week

has included:

person 1: A 14 year old sixth grader who tried to impale the back end of a ping pong paddle into my head .

person 2: A 16 year old band girl that carried around a stuffed animal and worshiped Miley Cyrus.

person 3: My roommate. A cocky, son of a preacher, football player that told me stories about how he fucked UF cheerleaders and peed in people's drinks.He also had a gas/snoring/flushing toilet/peeing in the toilet problem. I got about 15 hours of sleep since thursday.

person 4: A bulimic, preppy slut that constantly hit on said football player. Also, there needs to be an amendment to the constitution that makes having a southern accent and using ebonics a federal crime.

person 5: a middle school jock that constantly bragged, except in group therapy, when he'd break down and say how worthless he was.

person 6: A schizophrenic, psychotic (not exaggerating. she had no grasp of reality) 12 year old that chased her imaginary friends down the hall, was convinced one of the nurses was her mom, the 6th grader was her boyfriend, and freddie krueger lived in the examining room. She was, by far, the coolest person there.

Strangely enough, I feel refreshed. Yay for Loony Bins.

Death of a Zealot

Most of this biographical, but I really embellished it. I don’t want people to think they know me from a 600 word poem on the internet.

Life gives us all something, whether we like it or not.

Life gave me a loving home which was minimally dysfunctional

and I always could fall back on family whenever I needed to .



Life gave me opportunities to learn and succeed

and I used them to make myself a smarter person.



Life gave me a mind

And I used this mind to question and fight for what I thought noble.



Life gave me friends who idolized me

We’d go to each others’ houses, and I’d rant and they’d listen.



Life gave me a heart

And it came in handy when I cared about things.



Life gave me the ability to live, so I lived

And I thought living was alright.



At some point, though, the things life gave me started to change the way I thought and acted.



Life gave me a loving home which was minimally dysfunctional

And I could fall back on my family whenever I needed to

So I started to fall back on them a lot.



Life gave me opportunities to learn and succeed

And I used them to make myself a smarter person

but I started wondering why I should be a smarter person.



Life gave me a mind

And I did use this mind to question and fight for what I did think was noble

Only to figure out it things wouldn’t change, and this made me bitter.



Life gave me friends who idolized me

And we did go to each others’ houses, where I ranted and they listened

But I was bitter now, and this started to irk them.



Life gave me a heart

And it did come in handy when I cared about things

But eventually, all things come to an end, and that hurts.



Life gave me the ability to live

And I did think living was alright

But as they say, life was starting to give me lemons.



Then at another point, they way I thought and acted started to change what life gave me.



Life gave me a loving family which wasn’t dysfunctional

And I could always fall back on my family when I needed to

So I fell back on them a lot

I guess I fell back on them too much, cause they aren’t there anymore.



Life gave me opportunities to learn and succeed

And I did use them to make myself a smarter person

And I did start wondering why I should be a smarter person

Now that I think of it, being a smarter person just made me bitter. I think I’ll be dumb now.



Life gave me a mind

And I did use this mine to question and fight for what I thought was noble

And I figured out things wouldn’t change, and that made me bitter

So I forgot about fighting, and what’s really noble turned into a mystery.



Life gave me friends who idolized me

And we did go to each others’ houses, where I ranted and they listened

But then I was bitter, and that started to irk them

So we fought, and now we aren’t friends anymore.



.. ..

Life gave me a heart

And it did come in handy when I cared about things

But all things do come to an end, and that does hurt

But only if you continue to care about them.



Life gave me the ability to live

And I thought living was alright

And, as they say, life was starting to give me lemons

But they didn't realize you need sugar and water to make lemonade.

I was recently in a room

of about 20 people in their mid twenties-early thirties, and about 3 teenagers. The adults acted silly and obnoxious, like a bunch of little kids. The 3 teenagers stood around talking about really intellectually stimulating stuff. I grew up faster than them.

Drunken conversations with unforgiving exes.

Well, I didn't beg her to come back to me and profess my love or anything, so I'm not that pathetic at least. We were good friends after we broke up for awhile and I'm wondering why we washed our hands of each other over something so petty. Which, for those of you that aren't my biographers, is screwing another girl months after we broke up. I like to think we had something deeper than a typical naive teenage relationship and we're mature enough to let bygones be bygones. Creepy guys like me don't get too many real friends in life and I wanna be on good terms with the person that probably knows more about me than I do. No dice. Life goes on.

I'll wallow in my misery as long as I goddamn please, thank you very much

Something about the holidays makes me extremely depressed. Moreso than usual. I don't even remember last Christmas. I remember New Year's Eve, refusing to go to my dad's friend's party and the huge feud that ensued, but not Christmas. I can't figure out why. Nothing traumatic happened, my family isn't silent enough to keep that down, so I doubt I'm repressing anything. Maybe it was just really uneventful and I smoke too much weed.

I'm going to say some very personal things in this rant, some of my deepest insecurities and most demented thoughts. Things about myself that I've kept hidden for years, the first attempt I'll make at some sort of memoir. Things I swore to take to my grave. For those of you that knew me when I lived in Mason, the things that make me the biggest fucking hypocrite in these 50 states. For those of you that didn't, some insight to the warped monster I used to be and how it ruined my life. I don't know who reads this. I don't know if this is going to end up in my parents hands and I'll end up in the psych ward again. At this point, I really don't fucking care. I want what I'm thinking to be in public. I want to know how crazy or how sane I sound. When I'm gone (This isn't a suicide note, either. If I had the stomach for that I would've done it by now. Though if I ever muster up the balls I'll just print this out instead of writing another letter) I want people to really know what I was going through and to understand why. Part of me still has a glimmer of hope for some reason and figures I'll want to remember how horrible my teenage years were and keep in touch with those feelings, possibly to help others deal with them. The more help I seek the more I wish people did that. I have nothing to look forward to and I'm honestly indifferent to what happens next. I can't possibly feel any lower than I am right now.

Everything you'll read will be completely honest. They say you can't be completely honest when others are reading your words, hence judging you, but I believe that only applies if you care about how those reading think of you. I'm gonna allow pretty much whoever asks to read this, but only because I never see any of you and could easily be rid of you if you think my problems too petty or I'm fairly confident you'll understand what I'm saying. If you're one of the 5 people I deal with on a regular basis, tough shit.

I think I'll start with definition of clinical depression,

clinical depression:

  noun Psychiatry. a depression so severe as to be considered abnormal, either because of no obvious environmental causes, or because the reaction to unfortunate life circumstances is more intense or prolonged than would generally be expected.

I post the definition because seemingly everyone I know has their own definition of depression, and seemingly everyone I know doesn't know what true depression is. Their interpretation is usually when something unfortunate happens to them and they're really sad for a few days. Or, when stress becomes overwhelming they have a hard time coping with it. They're able to function normally. They're able to get up on time and go to school/work. They maintain a social life and find pleasure in things. I don't. I use the term extreme sadness because sadness is an emotion, depression is more than that. Depression changes your outlook on everything. It changes who you are. It warps your personality and takes control of your life. It sucks all the hope, passion, joy, drive and energy from you. It makes you feel completely worthless, useless and stupid. Over the years I've developed a stutter and I can't think clearly anymore. Anything remotely stressful results in me completely falling apart. I used to be loud and obnoxious. I'm quiet and withdrawn now. I haven't felt happy since 2005. Merely days where I feel numb, where I stop thinking about the turn my life has taken and can somewhat enjoy thinks I used to care about. People that don't realize this and belittle this disease (yes, disease) bother me. Learn the difference between sadness and depression. I'm prone to believe anything right now, as authoritatively as I say this, if enough people tell me that I will eventually believe that is depression.

The title of this blog (it's "I'll wallow in my goddamn self-pity as long as I want, thank you very much" on my actual blog. I think I'll choose something a little less pretentious for myspace. I have my reasons.) is partially a joke, but there's some truth to it. It's the other assumption people make about me. To really understand where I'm coming from, (*sigh* I went to my bed and lied down for a few minutes before I started this part. I really don't like talking about my past.) you'll need to understand my history first.

Ever since I was about 9 I've been a loner. Isolated. While I hate large groups of people, being a total recluse isn't fun. My dad was in the army and if you don't know, the army transfers you a lot, so I moved 10 times in my life. Maintaining a steady group of friends hasn't exactly been easy. I found ways to deal with it when I was younger. Video games, hanging out with people with no standards, baseball, tv etc. I got sick of it really fast. Around the end of 8^th grade the hormones kicked in. I decided I wasn't gonna take anything from anybody and I would say what I think. If I didn't like you, I'd let you know. I'm sure you're thinking "Yeah, you and 488374748378437843874343 other middle school boys, Tony", but I took it to a new level. I deliberately singled out emo kids, goth kids, preps, wiggers, skaters; basically anyone who followed a trend that wasn't indie or punk. Also white trash. These were people I felt no sympathy towards. The white trash kids always hated me cause, being a half Puerto Rican army brat, I was a little more cultured than them, and that bothered them. I also kinda rubbed it in their face, but that's expected from little kids. I think that's it anyway. Maybe I just hate people that smell like cat pee. I hated the trendy kids because they rejected me.

I said the most terrible things I could muster to them. I'd find out what bothered them the most in life-if their parents were divorced, if they were insecure about their looks, if they thought they had no future, even if they were raped or abused-and I'd exploit it. I thought it was hilarious. They gave me shit before, and I found a way to get to them. I didn't do it for attention. I didn't do it to feel better about myself. At that point in time, I thought I was the greatest thing since oral sex. I just stopped caring one day and decided to be an asshole. I was amazing, I thought, if they couldn't see that, fuck them. They made me feel like shit long enough, not anymore. I'll make anyone that doesn't see my greatness miserable. I didn't try to justify it. I proudly proclaimed that I was the worst person on the face of the Earth and I could make Hitler curl up in the fetal position.

They expelled one of the said white trashlings from school for threatening to shoot it up. When they raided his house they found guns and notebooks of fantasies/plans. They found a hitlist. I was the second name on it and I was called down to the principal's office. This was early in my freshman year, when my assholeness peaked. Since the end of 8^th grade I feuded with him. I don't remember who started it. I remember hating him more than the other white trashlings, though, because he wanted my friends and he was a racist. I don't remember what we said to each other, just that my insults revolved around his jailed father, failing grades, lack of friends and the fact that his mother hated him. No holes barred.

The school didn't do anything to me. Legally, they couldn't. I just made fun of him. At that time, I would've had to threaten him for them to take legal action. I could see it in my principal's eyes, though, as he said he read AIM convos I had with the kid, that he wished he could've done something. He saw an insecure, depressed, vulnerable kid taken advantage of and driven mad by a broken home, a lack of friends, no future and lastly, one malicious asshole. I knew he wanted me. I knew I committed a terrible crime, maybe not in the eyes of the constitution, but in the eyes of anyone with a heart. I had cheated authority and society for the first time. The rush was unlike anything I ever felt. I did not care that his life was over and he probably felt more depressed than I could ever imagine, up until now anyway. This event summarizes me as a person at that point in my life, and if it does what I intended it to do, it will make it hard for you to feel sympathy towards me. This is kind of a tale of karma. (In case you're wondering, the kid tried to hang himself a month later and has been in and out of mental institutions since. I haven't heard anything about him in well over a year, though.)

In retrospect, I see that I'm a different person now and that I did some terrible, terrible things, but I honestly feel no remorse. There are remnants of that person in my personality, still, but that is not the reason. These are things I'm not even capable of doing anymore. As disturbing as this sounds, that was the happiest time of my life. Ironically, when I stopped caring about having friends, I started having friends. People thought I was hilarious. People thought I was honest. People thought I was edgy. It all fed my ego and made those who could've swayed me from that path's words meaningless. It also wasn't gonna last forever. People grow up. You'll see what this has to do with self-pity if I ever decide to do a second half of this.