wouldn't it be funny if

I can’t even believe I’m typing right now. I guess this is what isolation and boredom will drive an anti-technological idiot to do. Ha, anti-technological. Social networking sites have sucked the soul out of me. It honestly makes me sad when I log in. Why do I do it? It’s like an addiction. Part of me wants to take a baseball bat to every single thing I own that contains a battery. If I had a remote for my TV, I’d destroy that too. I cringe at the fact that I’m even so obsessed with anything that begins with the word “social.” That word epitomizes the majority of my educational, intellectual, and. albeit obvious, my social time. Social. Society. What does that even mean? What does anything even mean? What do I even know? I know sadness. I know it, but I don’t know all of it. I probably don’t even know one billionth of sadness. But I do know it. I know some of it, at least. I’ve made it my own. Every day, every class, every second, there’s just too much that I don’t fucking know. But when you love someone and they don’t love you back, you know what that is. You know that stupid feeling you have is real. You know that stupid feeling is sadness. When you can see the rest of the world taking off and living while you jog in place, you know what that feeling is. When society prevents you from having what you need to live as freely as you must, you’re sad. You’re sad and lost and you want to just understand something, one thing, anything. You want to stand somewhere, perhaps looking at the sky, or the ceiling, or the inside of your eyelids, and think, “Yeah, I’m not sure about many things, but this, this is real. This exists as much as I exist (Which isn’t much.)