Simon Chapman, what the hell are you doing?

[SIMON CHAPMAN]

If my dealer doesn't get here soon, I'm going to have to resort to getting high off of cleaning products or some shit.

There are times, even in my fantastic, enviable life, when things can seem to get me down. It's silly, really. Simon Chapman shouldn't worry about a bit of petty gossip. The people wanna talk? Let 'em. That's what I say, anyway.

It's just like Fall Out Boy said, I don't care what you think, as long as it's about me. Man, Percy would have a field day if he knew I was going on about Fall Out Boy still.

Fuck, I'm not supposed to be talking about him. Him and fucking Flynn are the reason for my present annoyance. Well, them and that stupid fucking gossip site. Gossip Girl? How original. How much less of a life do you need to actually spend your time on that thing.

I don't. I just heard from some valuable sources that some fucker decided to print me into their little bit of gossip for the week. Again, I don't care. Why should I?

There are bigger things on my mind. Like the fact that my parents are slowly- but surely! cutting me off.
Shit.

Apparently it's alright for them to fuck around with their money, but not for me.

I got a job. I hate it. Pet shops smell awful. And those little balls of fur aren't fucking cute. I'm glad I never got that dog for Christmas. I would've shipped it back.

Where's my fucking dealer?

[SIMON CHAPMAN]

You do not want him. You want drugs.

Drugs are the only thing you can trust. So, don't get any fucking ideas, Chapman. You go that?

Stop yourself before you get carried away, before you can't talk yourself out of this.

You don't need him. You don't need anyone.

And by the way, you can't fly either. You're a human, not a fucking bird. So, stop climbing roofs and trying to sprout wings.

Get it together, dumb ass.

[SIMON CHAPMAN]

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to, y’know, be in love.

I mean, not that I want to be- or that I ever will be. But really, I don’t understand. How can you give your heart to someone like that? How can you trust them so completely with it? Maybe I don’t have the gene for it. Maybe they forgot to give me that feeling because I honestly…I don’t love anything, really… Sometimes I think I could, but it’s silly really. I know nothing about love and seeing other people in love really teaches me nothing…just shows me how much I don’t want it. It looks so messy, so cliché`, so ridiculously overrated.

I thought life was about finding yourself, not finding someone to lean on like some crutch. I’m not going to cripple myself by loving. I’m not going to let myself need someone so bad. I’m going to put any thoughts about it away, in storage- in the part of my brain that says “never ever think about it again” because it’s really just better that way.

I’m better that way, without having to be perfect for someone. I can’t be. I look it, sure, but I’m really not. Sometimes coming down from a high shows me how fucked up I really am because all the worst thoughts in the world come into my head, all the worst, most unwanted memories. And I hate that, the vulnerability. I don’t want to be constantly reminded that I have, can, and will fuck up. I just want away from it all.

Fuck the happily in love couples. I don’t want their lives. Their lives are shit. Fuck marriage, fuck commitment, fuck it all. Just fuck it. Maybe I want to be alone.

And maybe I’m lying to myself.

But fuck it. Fuck it anyway.

[SIMON CHAPMAN]

I’m not suicidal. Not really. Not anymore.

Suicidal Simon was a fucking loser. That’s all middle school bull shit. I’m glad I cracked my skull open- well, okay, that sounds morbid. It kind of is. I just mean that I’m glad that something finally changed for me. When I got out of the coma, I was a new person. I didn’t exactly remember a lot, so it left a lot of room for recreating myself. I guess that old self is still a part of me in some ways, but these days I’m not scared to be who I am at least. Feelings are a little difficult I guess, but feelings are what I had pre-coma. This is post-coma Simon talking, and I don’t need to waste my time feeling. It never got me anywhere before…except in a coma. I don’t think I can take another fall like that, though. I don’t need another fall. And feelings are just here to trip people up.

You know my parents were ready to pull the cord? The medical bills were cutting into their drug and gambling money. Ahaha, that’s my family for you. Lovely people. Guess that’s where I got it from. ‘It’ being my ability to come off as a heartless douche bag. After all, I was born to the two biggest heartless douche bags in Vegas. Maybe I’m giving them a little too much credit, since they’re my parents. But shit, they’ve done some rotten things in there day.

They bet my Christmas presents one year in a game of Blackjack. Lost. Didn’t even lie to me. There I was, eight years old, with a hand-me-down lighter for Christmas. My dad thought that’d make up for everything.

Let me stop myself before I get too nostalgic, though.

The point is, I’m over it. Over everything. I’m fine. Peachy, even. All I needed was one good crack to the skull. Maybe it was a bit bloody at the time, and perhaps I lost a month or two in that coma, but it worked for me.

I’m fine.

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[SIMON CHAPMAN]

People have so many misconceptions about arrogance, at least in my opinion. They see a selfish, spoiled person. They see someone who’s been boosted up their whole life.

I think it’s quite the opposite.

Do you know how hard it is to beat yourself down when everyone else is already doing it for you? Someone has to be proud of you, right? There has to be one person in the world proud to call you theirs.

And then when you find there isn’t, you reach a point where you have to be that person for yourself. You have to pretend for your own sake, that you’re proud of yourself. You have to block out the world and try for once to hear yourself.

But how does one even begin to hear themselves when everyone else is trying to voice their own opinion of you, who you are. What the fuck do they know about you? Why does the world think it knows you so much better than you do. You’re the only one who has to spend a life-time in your own skin.

But hey, maybe the people who see you maybe once, twice a week know a little something about yourself that you don’t. Maybe they’ve got eighteen years worth of shit figured out. Maybe they’re just that fucking good.

You’re obviously not.

[SIMON CHAPMAN]

(Simon don't quit your day job for those rap battles, yeah?)

[SIMON CHAPMAN]

I feel like I just got kicked in the chest. And I should know how that feels by now.

I should've never told him I loved him. How fucking stupid of me. I should've know that this was going to happen. I should've know the second I tried to let somebody completely in they would leave me.

And it had to be his fucking ex. God. His fucking ex. I hate the fucking guy. Should've fucking known. He was bound to fuck shit up. And here I was thinking that maybe there was something or somebody out there for me.

What a fucking dumb ass I must look like.

Just what I get, though, right? I know that's what everyone's probably thinking. Fucking deserved it. Finally got a taste of my own medicine.

Let me tell you, that's some fucking bitter medicine. And this is coming from a guy who's tried almost every medication there ever was.

I just really can't see things getting better from here. Fuck everything. Fuck everyone.

I just want to die.