We all know fuckmylife should really be called fuck my stupidity (and lack thereof of brains and the sort) considering half the people who are going on about their lives completely brought it onto themselves.
It’s not that big of a deal. Shit happens. Your life isn’t actually that bad. You shouldn’t have done it in the first place, probably. Recheck your calendar, do your essay ahead of time, stay faithful to your girlfriend instead of letting her catch you on the kitchen counter with your legs coiled around her little sister by seven months. You should have kept it in your pants. You had to read the textbook like the rest of us. You should have been more careful. You smoked for twenty years and now have cancer. You should have hid that vodka better. You faint and end up in the hospital because you sucked on redbull for three days straight from a straw, blinking sleepless into an intoxicated stupor. You should have slept like the rest of us. Do you really need a pony? You aren’t any different. Well, maybe a bit more stupid.
Stop doing drugs and fucking yourself up. Or keep doing the drugs, and just stop fucking complaining about the aftermath.
Remember when people weren’t feeling sorry for themselves? Remember when they realized they have it so, so much better than most? Or maybe it was never that way. The people that actually should be saying “fuck my life,” will never advertize it in the same way, because that’s how you know, actually having a fucked up life works.
You know when you can say ‘fuck my life?’ When you wake up shaking with your bones enflamed and creaking, even though you’re only sixteen, and you can barely make a fist. You didn’t ask for this. You know when you can say ‘fuck my life?’ When you’re crossing the road and you are caught in an impromptu-cross fire and you find your nose shot off and your guts hanging out. When you can’t walk for more than five minutes in the cold without feeling yourself heave from the inside, not because you are out of shape, but because your lungs have misshaped themselves. When your muscles deteriorate from the inside, when you’re inbred, when you never really recuuperate because you never reach REM—oh how you would love to be able to sleep, when you need medication just for your medication, when you are abused, used and degraded. When your skeletons have skeletons. Sleeping on the street. Third world poverty. Cystic fibrosis. Periodic limb movements. Schizophrenia. Brain damage. Cancer. Being born addicted to cocaine. Post traumatic stress from rape, from war. Lupus. You get my point.
For the record, I abhor the word ‘fuck,’ so my usage of the “word” is not only contextual but pretty self explanatory. (I really do hate to curse, but I shall make an exception here.)
Here is my brittle and unsettling dose of reality for you. Some people have real problems.
There are so many things you have to be grateful for. Let yourself. Humanity is about making mistakes.
links to my ~feel good~ “i’ll get back up again” mixtapes.
hey, you there. yeah, you, the one that complains about your life all day long. i am so sick of it. you are bringing me down. your life could be so much worse. appreciate what you have. stop wallowing in self pity. look on the brighter side. there’s always a brighter side. you’ve had some hard times? that’s okay, you learned something. you got knocked down, now get back up again.
i made this because i am very tired of hearing people go “fuck my life,” when their lives are not that bad (or often self-inflicted). no one ever seems to look at the positive side and seems to swim in their own selfishness. all these songs are uplifting, about not letting life get you down. the world is at your feet, blah, blah. because you know what? it is. some of the songs only have a few lines that apply, but you get the point i’m sure. the first part is more alternative and the second is more pop. comment if taking please! 🙂 sample & more at my blog.
TAKE EXAMPLE FROM: GivesMeHope – Like FML, but for optimists!
“I woke up one morning to hear the birds outside my window and my mother cooking breakfast downstairs. I’ve never cried so much in my entire life. I had been deaf since the age of 8.”
“Three days ago, my best friend died. Two days ago, I found that she was an organ donor. One day ago, I heard that a nine year old boy now had her heart. Today, I met that nine year old boy. He told me that because he had my best friend’s heart, he’d be my best friend now. My best friend and him GMH.”