this is panic. this is failure.

i'm on my knees
i'm home
i fall on my face
i fall.


all i want right now are people that are like me; that have similar likes and hobbies. i want to fucking talk music and tv shows and ikuta toma and fashion. i want to laze around at home and have people keeping me company that will 'get' the things i like. i'm sick of being different to everyone else to the extent of being lonely. lately all i've been confined to conversing about 'safe' subjects that bore me to death. it's not too much to ask, is it? no one i speak to these days even knows or appreciates who/what francis dolarhyde/osaka-ben/immanu el/dylan moran/miyavi/bukowski/kleptomania/she spits macabre is/are. it irks me so, to observe people talking shit like they know everything, like they've done this scene a hundred times over. i detest the lack of realism nowadays; everyone's pretending to be someone they're not, conforming to standards accepted by the masses and in the process, disposing of everything they once stood for. everything is just a fucking title these days, like a badge to wear. nothing means anything anymore. it used to be 'emo' then 'scene' and now its 'indie'. i'm sick of being reduced to a fucking stereotype, to a word that has lost any kind of concrete meaning, twisted and weakened from its original definition to nothing more than some kind of petty insult. i don't give a fuck about anyone else. they're all the same, and i can't talk to anyone.

/i need you more than i.