Well, here the fuck I am and here the fuck you are. My first post on a blog most people would be well advised to avoid. Unless, perhaps, you believe that in recent times you've been so royally fucked over that you actually want to hear from some other bitch whiner who believes they got fucked over too. Yeah, that would be me, which means we are both pathetic fucks.
I'm launching this blog to describe my station in life, which is about three million stations below what I thought it would be. But as you will soon learn, that's all my fault. Every bit of it. Except for those bits that I try to blame on others. Common bits, I imagine.
It's possible that you stumbled upon this piece of crap through some rudimentary Google search about bitches, cunts, assholes or getting fucked (damn, you are one sick puppy), but trust me, those are just casual words I'll be throwing around using to describe my life. If you're some deviant who's looking for porn, you won't find any on this blog and I...well, wait a sec, you might find porn on this blog a little later. Maybe little bits and pieces. But trust me, any porn content I might post is only ancillary to my life story.
Shit, now I feel like a total asshole-bitch blogger with a porn fetish and a victim mentality. This won't be as easy as I thought it would be. And I'm guessing using six words related to fuck in the first 200 words of this post hasn't helped my cause. Now I almost regret my progressive childhood.
Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. Maybe you found this blog because you believe in the inherent beauty of life and how we can all survive its challenges and emerge as a triumphant butterfly blessed with wisdom and ready to conquer the world. If that's the case, you're in the right place! At least, you're in the right place unless the profanity I'm using has made you cringe and label me as a pervert. If that's the case then I have to admit that you're right. And please fuck off now and never return.
But the rest of you should stick around. I might help you understand the reasons behind the mistakes of your past and warn you about the mistakes you could make in your future. Trust me, I'm an expert. Or so I keep telling myself.
Believe it or not, this was supposed to be my first post on a blog about the joy of surviving the ups and downs of an everyday life. A life that throws in a few conflicts after you hit age two or three. A life that might seem normal to you until you observe that other people seem to have lives that are much closer to "normal" than yours. But here's the truth: there is no normal in real life. Sure, there's a storybook normal that some people claim to have, but it's nothing but a sham. All of us are fucked over, even if we don't recognize it (and many people don't).
If you're like me, you know that life was practically designed for getting fucked over, just like our parents warned us ("life is never easy, son"). Life's a bitch and then you die...ugh, I wanted to avoid clichés. But I think we all know that some clichés become clichés because they ring true.
Well, that's about all the fucking up I can handle for one day. I can't even start a blog without derailing the entire post with useless tangents. But I do know one thing for sure. I am alive and not dead. And I keenly realize I can't take that for granted. I fully comprehend how fragile my mortality is. That every minute my smoke-scarred lungs keep inflating is another minute I have to escape the apparent destiny that has infiltrated my reality. If you can relate to that, then maybe we have something in common. Perhaps, in some warped universe that hovers just around the corner, we might yet be rewarded for the battles we have valiantly fought, even when it was obvious we were doomed to lose the war.
Ha, losing the war. We all know life is not about winning the war. None of us can actually win the war. We can only hope to relentlessly fight our personal battles and hope that some yet-unseen protocol of justice will deem us worthy to emerge as (nicked up) butterflies at the end of the process, finally able to briefly flutter over our domains before we crash to the ground. When we crash we know we've lost the final battle, which is everyone's destiny, and we expire. But as our corpses shrivel and desiccate, at least we know we remained true to ourselves and didn't cave in to the bullshit that made life such a bitch in the first place.
