So Superman fell from a horse, and he broke his neck and became paralyzed. Because of those things, he was labeled a hero.
I, on the other hand, fell from the clouds, and I broke my soul. Because of those things, I was labeled a pitiable loser.
I have this stupid sense of entitlement sometimes. I really hate it.
Because I know it's bullshit.
Just ask my dad if it's bullshit. Oh wait, you can't, because he worked hard his whole fucking life and then just dropped dead one Thursday evening.
Or ask my nephew if it's bullshit. Oh wait, you can't, because he kept his nose clean all throughout his adolescence and was as ready for adulthood as anyone, but then he was killed in a car accident late on a Friday night.
You're supposed to work hard, for a long time, and then you're supposed to be rewarded for your efforts?
You're supposed to suffer unimaginable anguish, and then things are supposed to work out so your suffering was worth it?
Bullshit. That guy Job, from the bible, can suck my dick.
What really happens, most of the time, is that all of your hard work and all of your suffering - they mean not a fucking thing.
The universe doesn't care how hard you've worked. And the universe sure as fuck doesn't care what you're been through. Fuck, it was the universe that put you through all the crap in the first place.
I hate feeling like this. Like my own years of suffering are worth a flying fuck to anyone or anything. It's bullshit, and I know it, but I can't shake it.
I want some fucking justification, dammit. I've fucking earned it. I'm fucking waiting.
When do I get to look at my life, realize how wonderful it is, and say that it was worth all the anguish?
Huh? Answer me that, universe. You fucking cocksucker.