Is it cliche to say that I died a long time ago?

At some point I started living for everyone else with little regard for my own feelings, wants, or dreams. And even in my dreams I am never myself but a silent observer managing other people’s emotions, I don’t won’t do anything I am just along for the ride. Some would call that a parasite.

If you were to ask me what I do for fun or what I enjoy, I wouldn’t have an answer for you. You might be able to see the thinly veiled hatred I’d have for you, for making me think, and then we would move on and it would not be brought up again.

I probably told you I like hiking or gardening.Of course I actually do

This stagnation was allowed to fester until quite recently when my dog died. He lived a long terrible life, so don’t get too worked up about it. But he did die, and as they loaded his cardboard casket into the back of my drinking age car I had two terrible thoughts.

The first was regret. Regret for all the choices I never made, the children I didn’t have, the white picket fence that never was, the friends I didn’t keep up with. The basic life I thought was so suffocating and rejected so fiercely had now somehow died with this damn dog. I was mourning something I never even wanted.

The second was what was it all for? I mean what was the fucking point? All these things I collected over the years, the things I took care of, none of it mattered in the end. What does that mean for me as a living breathing person? I already had a suspicion that I did not matter but my dead dog, my gutted house, my trampled plants, they all proved it.

So what is this website?

This will be a record of all my hatred, of all my love, of all my dead dreams and some new ones. This will be my creation, my self expression, my magnum opus that I will be the sole God of.

I don’t care if people don’t like it, for once I will do and say what I want.