The Facebook events.

When I go on Facebook, I really just check notifications, check inbox if there is anything there and see if there are any event invitations or friend requests and the like. Before I continue this blog though, I need to apoligize because I am typing this blog up on Brett's laptop and this doesn't have word or anything, so this blog won't have any spell check thingy so it will most likely be plagued with errors. I mean I could go back, read what i wrote after I finish and fix it up but I have never done that before, and I don't see why I should for this one. Back to Facebook, this seems to be the season for Facebook events and it just makes me happy. I have actually never had this many Facebook events at once, and I am very picky with my events. Whenever I get an invite to something like, bloody, some club night or something that I know I won't go to, like 'Thursday Nights at Star Bar' or something like that, I don't click 'not attending', I actually remove it from my events, so on my events I only have things that I am actually probably going to.

I have only ever been to one party that I didn't feel welcome at, and I think that the main... well the only reason I didn't feel welcome there was probably because it was the formal after party for, like Woodcroft High School or something and we just jumped the fence and thought we would have a great time partying with them. We really didn't have a good time at all, I mean I blended in a little bit at the start, but then it got to the point where one by one we would start getting caught. Our plan was silly from the start though, I mean there were like nine of us, there was no way we were going to get in and party with them undetected, but it just seemed like a good idea at the time. We ended up making our way to the dancefloor and partying hard, sober as a bunch of nuns who are partying for some reason, to put it blatantly, we stood out like we actually were nuns, and everyone just knew we weren't supposed to be there.

The feeling of being blended in really just, vanished, or banished, whichever of those words you prefer. anyway, the feeling went away and we felt like absolute outcasts ripping up the dance floor. We walked away from the dance floor and that's when I saw Chris being escorted away from the party. I was with Saf and at this stage we realised that we just, we just didn't even want to be there. We walked up and past these two guys who were saying something along the lines of 'if I see those fucking gate crashing cunts I am gonna fucking kick their heads right the fuck in' and at this point, understandably, I just wanted to get out, really. Long story short, we made our way out of there unharmed and it was the last party we ever crashed... and the first.

Before Facebook events, it was harder to tell if you were actually welcome to a party. I mean you would have been told to come or you would have like a paper invite or something but Facebook events just make it so easy. If there is one thing that makes me happy in this world, well there are like seventeen things but if there was just one, it probably wouldn't be Facebook events, but it would definitely be up there. They can be awfully misleading at times, I mean sometimes the one new event invitation that pops up in the corner of your Facebook might just be like, bloody Thursday Night at Star Bar, it is just absolutely devastating. According to my Facebook events, from now until the twenty sixth of February, I have two barbecues, two parties, four dress up parties, two music festivals and the thing I am looking the most; Brett and Andrew's Fucking Party Day.

I was thinking the other day that maybe, like, I mean there are so many parties, it is kind of fucked. Right now I have, I still have no money at all, but I do have half a case of Millers Chilled. If I can somehow make that last through that many parties, then, no there is no way that I could do that, there is no need to type the rest of what I was going to say up. Anyway, I was thinking that I can imagine myself actually missing one of these parties, like just thinking, 'hmm, I am all partied out, perhaps missing the next Facebook event slash party?' but then I realised that, yeah, I am just not that soft, and partying and blogging is all I know how to do, and right now, I am just bloody hungry, so I'm going to go and eat some food, and I'll see you later, maybe, depending on who you are...

The, the nothing really.

I get asked quite a lot whether I like writing these blogs every day, whether I get sick of writing them or not, and my answer is always the same, and that answer is that I love writing them every day, I mean it gives me something to do, but I normally tell the asker that I have fun with them, except for those days where I just have nothing to write about and I actually just, I just don’t know what to write. I have been sitting here for the last hour trying to think of something to write, and I just can’t think of anything at all. I was going to write about New Year’s resolutions and what they even mean, but then I realised that I didn’t have one, and I thought that maybe it was too late to make one. I think I actually said that my New Year’s resolution would be to wear shoes whenever I left the house, but I failed that one on like, on New Year’s Eve, so yeah. I think another new year’s resolution I thought of was to wake up every day in the AM, so that means no waking up at like three in the afternoon, but I failed that the first day, and then I continued to fail it like, every other day.

I then thought that maybe I could write about this new Batman game that I borrowed off Linou; I mean it’s a pretty fun game, but I don’t even know what to say about it. It’s a great game, yeah, fun, heaps to do in it, but I wouldn’t be able to write a whole thingy, blog about it, I mean I don’t really know anything about Batman, I just know that he wears a cape and his parents were murdered and stuff, but yeah, not like I could write a whole one of these about it. Sometimes these blogs take me ten minutes to write, other times they take me like an hour and then there are those days where I am still going hours after I started because I just get side tracked and don’t finish them. I was meant to leave here and go back to Andrew’s like two hours ago now, but I thought to myself that I should just write this one up here on my computer that is faster than Andrew’s and then head off to his place, but yeah, I just should have finished writing this by now.

Sometimes I will have so many things to write about that I can’t fit them into a single blog, and they were the best times because it meant that I had at least two or three days worth of knowing what to write about, and sometimes if I had plenty of time to spare I would just write like, two, three blogs in the one day and put them up one after the other, or keep a spare one so on a day like this where nothing interesting has happened, I could just put that one up and not have to worry about writing one. This really does seem like a kind of job, like a voluntary job that I don’t know why I do it. I mean there are those days where I think that maybe I should just not write one, and then never write one ever again, and I wander what would happen. I mean I get those people that say that they read my blog every day and that, but do you think that they would care if I just stopped? I’m currently pursing my lips in a kind of ‘come on’ lip movement as I create a ‘thumbs up’ with my hand and throw it behind myself, with the thumb pointing at the door behind me. Why I did that I don’t know, and why I typed it here will forever be more of a mystery.

I tend to do that a lot when I write these, and I don’t know why, like its fucking weird, I mean unless I am on The Truman Show, I am not being watched, so why do that for no one, and then why type it here? I think the main reason I am typing it here is because it is just as interesting as the rest of the nothing that I have typed here, and really, all I am doing is typing until I reach the amount of words that makes me think that I have written enough and then I will just stop and yeah, go. I remember making jokes with Matt Gunn just after school ended about how this blog will turn from the crazy antics of school life to just being about nothing, but I never thought it would extend to this. It’s times like this that make me think that I need a job, but part of getting a job is looking for a job, and what I am doing now, unless some guy who works for some news corporation is reading this and he is like ‘nah this is fucking brilliant, I am going to hire him right now’, then I am currently not helping myself find a job, so I am going to wrap it up here and leave you with this message. If you do work for a news corporation and you think that the last nine hundred odd words of wank was actually fucking brilliant, just, let me know.

The home sweet home.

Walking into your room to see it the same way that you left it has to be up there with some of the best feelings in the entire world. I mean I don’t have those parents that clean my room, but I just love how I left the house for days to return to the exact same situation that I left it in. It’s just such a good feeling to see that my Hyper Magazine is still opened up to the same page that it was on when I left, my Big Day Out timetable that I printed off is still sitting there on my belt with the little bits that started to peel off it and I just finished the job, tearing off these square type brown leather squares. The brown leather squares are still sitting there, not moved from the spot that they fell onto, right next to the empty glass of orange juice that I left there, next to that is my iPod dock remote, pointing at the iPod dock, I press play to resume the same song that I was listening to before, paused in the same spot, Paper Planes Remix by MIA ft. Lil Wayne... I am home.

Being home is great, but it’s not like I will be here for long, I mean I will hopefully sleep here tonight but then tomorrow morning, or more realistically afternoon; whenever I get up, I will just head back to Andrew’s. Mum just walked in and read what was on the screen, what was on the screen was of course the above sentence stating that she doesn’t clean my room, and she wanted me to change the sentence to say that she doesn’t ‘disturb’ or ‘meddle’ with my room, because she doesn’t want it to sound like she doesn’t clean my room, I mean she did actually just come in to vacuum, but mum should know that I rarely use the delete button when I write these, I just keep going and correct my mistakes as I go. Mum left the room saying that she hated me, and now the remix of Show Me Love by Unknown Artist is playing... I am home.

When mum left she didn’t just leave, she took the glass of orange juice that had no juice in it that has been there for god knows how long. When she went to pick it up from the desk it made that sticky sound that happens when you lift something off of something that is sticky, I do not know how I am going to describe it but you know what I am on about, it happens, it makes that sound and then you are left with that sticky ring of moisture on your desk? Anyway, so I just walked to the kitchen and grabbed a glass, opened the fridge to see that there was Orange and Mango juice in the fridge, so as you can probably assume right now I am just loving being at home, loving life. I put the glass of orange and mango juice, which now has barely any juice left just so you know, I put it back down onto the ring, I mean now it’s empty because I picked it back up and finished it but you know, I haven’t typed here in a while, it’s been a good ten minutes. Nah... I am so home.

To say that I am disappointed in the efforts of us staying at Andrew’s would be pretty spot on; I mean we have just sat around the entire time playing Xbox. The earliest we have been getting up is still in like, the PM, and it’s not even early in the PM, I mean it’s been like three, four PM, then there was that day that Andrew slept in until six... that was just fucked though. Really though, the week so far in recap form has been getting drunk twice and playing Xbox the rest of the time. I only got drunk once of the two times though, I mean none of my drinks were cold, or at least that’s what I blamed my so called softness on according to the rest of them. I was really expecting this to be like schoolies again, but longer, and without like, you know, the actual schoolies, but it has really just been the same as normal, just I haven’t been going home at all, but when I do, like now, it’s just great.

Like I can imagine Andrews parents coming home and being so disappointed in him that nothing bad has happened, I bet that they are looking forward to coming home to a punched in section of dry wall, or a beer drenched TV and stereo system, or maybe even a broken window or some writing on the walls, but we are keeping it so well kept if that makes sense that they are going to be so happy that like, the happiness reaches the top of the happiness metre and goes all the way back down, resetting kind of, and now it will reach the stage on the metre that says disappointment. Hopefully that makes some sense to you, but it’s a good thing that I assumed that you won’t make sense of it, that’s why I drew up this diagram graph thing on paint.

The phone.

I normally have my phone sitting in front of me so when it rings or when I get a text I can see right away. I think I am the fastest phone picking up guy in the world, because if I am on the computer, my phone is sitting in front of me, somewhere, anywhere between me and the computer screen, somewhere within my line of vision to the screen. Whenever my phone rings or gets a text, the screen lights up before it starts to vibrate or play the ring tone, or as I recently discovered I can make it do, vibrate and ring at the same time.

I don’t have a memory card in my phone, all the pictures, contacts, texts, songs and all that are saved onto the phone. My phone is currently flashing every three seconds, and I have trained myself not to get excited and answer the phone because when I open the phone, there is just this message on the screen that says that my memory card has been removed and some settings may be changed. Whenever that message is on the screen, which is pretty much all the time, I can’t do anything else on the phone.

I always say how much I hate my phone, I mean it is shit. It will be on full battery, I’ll go to sleep and wake up and by the time I get up it is on low battery, flashing red, needing charging. It was just last night though when I realised how good my phone is, and by that I mean how used to it I am. I have had it for like three years now, and I just know how to use it, it’s great. I knew that one day I would get a new phone, that this one would break or something, but it was just last night when I was thinking about how happy I am that this phone hasn’t broken or anything and that it is still working.

It was probably within like, an hour of this positive thought that all the positive thoughts in my head went down the drain, replaced by fresh, negative, hating thoughts towards my phone. I needed a new phone six months ago when the battery decided to shit itself and go flat on occasion without warning. I needed a new phone four months ago when it would ring, I would open it and it would turn off. I needed a new phone two months ago when I started getting texts saying that I missed calls from people who never rang me, and now I need a new phone because of all those problems, and a new one, the new one being that I can’t do anything on the phone because it is actually fucked.

If you hadn’t gathered from the picture already, my phone is a Motorola Razor, probably the best phone in the world five years ago. I remember back in school when the first kid got one, it was bloody amazing. You couldn’t really do anything special on it now that I think about it, but it just looked so nice, it was so thin and small, then you’d flip it open to see the huge screen and the incredibly nice feeling buttons. Right now, the best phone in the world is definitely not the Motorola Razor, especially not mine. When you flip open my phone you see the big screen where the background should be, but isn’t because it thinks that I have a memory card with all my pictures when I really don’t. The nice feeling buttons are still there and still work but time has torn away at some of the buttons making it look ugly.

Probably the best thing that could possibly come out of this is a new phone, and why I put probably there I don’t know. I mean that is the best thing that can come out of this, obviously the second best is getting an old but working phone, the worst being the possibility of getting nothing and then I am just stuck with this broken, flashing piece of shit phone with no battery. As much as I hate it though, it is sad that I have to let it go, I mean I have always taken care of it. Never lost it, never broken it, and now as I look at it telling me that some settings may have been changed because the non existent memory card that is in it has been removed, I know that it is just trying to say goodbye.

The longest walk ever.

The walk to Andrew's is not a long walk at all, like you just really have to get onto Cross Roads and then head right down until you reach East Avenue and then you are just there. Why it took us so long I don’t know, and by I don’t know I really do know, but I still don’t know how it took us that long, I mean I do but you know, it just took even longer than the longest possible time that it should have taken, and why it took that long, I don’t know. The walk started with just Kenny, Tallulah and I. Instead of taking the streets like I said we should take, we took this forest like reserve park or something so we could cut through to where Hungry Jack’s was and then ring people to pick us up. If any horror movie has ever taught me anything ever, which it has, it taught me not to take shortcuts through forests or parks or just, dark places with trees no matter how much time it cuts down the walk by, because the time it cuts off isn’t really worth the cutting off of your head now, is it?

As much as I would like to say that something more interesting happened than we just walked through the forest park reserve thing to Hungry Jacks and nothing bad happened, that is just what happened so yeah, no serial killers in there. Seriously though, it was straight out of a horror movie, three friends walking through a park forest reserve thing, the only lights coming from our phones, fuck me, as if we didn’t get hacked to bits. Anyway, we made our way to Hungry Jacks and then we walked a bit further up to that dry cleaner place where Game Traders used to be and we just sat out the front of that, throwing pebbles into this little hole that was in the ground. No one on Tallulah’s phone wanted to pick her up, and I just wasted my last bit of credit calling Chris to see what they were doing, but the phone cut out before he could answer me with some random woman, who wasn’t Chris, telling me that my credit has reached zero.

We continued walking up the road where we found Cam sitting on some bench across from Mitcham shops. Cam’s plan was to walk Tallulah back to her house, and they told us to come as well and then Tallulah said she would just drop us back to Andrew’s or something in the morning. It sounded like a good plan, so we went along with it, but as I started to sober up I just started to realise things, the main thing being that Tallulah lives up in Prospect, and we were in Mitcham... It takes like forty minutes to drive up to Prospect from where we were, so fuck knows how long it would take to walk. Kenny and I decided to just walk to Andrews, which was still really far, especially because we had been walking in the wrong direction for the last half hour, but it was much, much closer than bloody Prospect. We let Cam and Tallulah go ahead because I think they were still drunk enough to think that going to Prospect was a possibility.

Needing to piss but not wanting to waste any more time than we already had, Kenny and I start to walk backwards whilst pissing, but I realised how impossible this actually was. For some reason or another, the flow just didn’t keep going as you take steps, and it was confusing. I ended up standing still and letting my piss finish but my mind didn’t stop asking my mind, yeah because my mind talks to myself, yeah it just didn’t stop asking itself why you can’t piss and walk at the same time. Pissing and walking seem like two things that shouldn’t really interfere with each other, but for some reason, they just did. We continued walking down but then I started to realise that I just, like my mouth was so dry, it was fucked. I needed water, or anything, I was completely and utterly dehydrated.

We reached Hyde Park and then we saw some guy who looked keen on a fight, he yelled out at us, and what he yelled out sounded something like the word ‘Kenny’. We walked towards the person and it turned out to be Stewy, and then he joined us in our walking adventures. Slowly but surely we made our way to On the Run, which is where I saw the most unexpected thing I have ever seen, ever. From a distance it looked like Tom Wilkin, but deep down I knew it couldn’t be, I mean he would have been asleep at Andrews by now. He was waiting by a car in the car park, and I didn’t want to approach him because it wasn’t Tom, and I would just embarrass myself if I ran up and called him Tom or something.

I walked back outside and looked at him, and he was just looking at me, I started walking closer as I saw the distant face turn into an actual face and not a blur, but the face that formed wasn’t Toms. Luckily I took one extra step because then I saw that it actually was Tom; the blur just hadn’t finished forming. I ran over to him and hugged him, and he had an iced coffee in his hands, and he let me have a sip, it completely hydrated me, but then I realised that it didn’t, it just wet my mouth and then when it went away I needed more liquid to hydrate myself further. The On the Run guy serving said that he only has hot water on tap that he could give me, so I just said no, I mean that would be so shit. I walked back outside to see that Mark had bought a bottle of water, the happiest moment of my life, or at least for the last hour or so had to be the feeling that the water gave me as it went down my throat, the feeling of hydration.

The car that was there turned out to be Lucy’s; Mark’s girlfriend. She dropped Tom Kenny and I back at Andrew’s and this just made the happiness of my hydration even happier, and from there I went straight to bed. From bed I got straight up because it had to be the hottest night ever, and although the air conditioner was supposedly on, I felt like I was being burned alive lying in the bed, even without a blanket or anything. I was lying on the bed, face down into the bed, lying in my underpants and nothing else, with nothing on me, no blanket, no sheet, no nothing, but I still felt like a bloody Charizard had me caught in its flame wheel attack, because I just could not escape the heat. Luckily enough Jack also couldn’t sleep and he was about to drive home, he took me home and I slept in my own bed, my beloved own bed. I could write a whole bloody blog on how much I love my own bed but I won’t, because that would just be silly, but I just had the best sleep ever, and then I woke up, and wrote this.

The bare feet.

It’s like schoolies all over again, just a much less good version of it, or worse if you wanted to make it into one word that makes more sense and just plain sounds better. Andrew’s parents have gone away, to where I don’t know, I mean I am sure that I have been told and I am sure that I could just walk back out there and ask Andrew again but I just don’t see the point, because the point is that this is like a second schoolies, except for drinking all the time I am writing this on Andrew’s slow ass computer, and I am currently like around the corner from my house instead of an hour or two drive away.

Recently I have not been wearing shoes or anything when I go out. I mean if I was just going to go to Brett’s house or something to play Xbox, I won’t put shoes on, but I think that my lack of shoes wearing hit it’s peak of itself or however I should put that last sentence when I went to Hannah’s New Years party without shoes, but it’s not like I felt out of place, I mean no one really was wearing shoes. When I am around other people who aren’t wearing shoes I feel fine, like I feel like it’s the norm. I just got back from Port Road with Chris and Tom and not one of us was wearing shoes.

For some reason though, I did not feel like we were being normal without shoes this morning. It was because I realised that every single other person there was wearing shoes, and this is not the first time that this has happened to me. It wasn’t long ago, maybe just a week ago, maybe more, maybe less, but either way, I was at Marion with Chris doing some shopping because I still had some Christmas money, and I realised that we were the only two people there who didn’t have shoes on. I actually felt like a bum, like I felt disgusting walking through a place infested with the shoe wearing public when I was walking through with no shoes, accompanied by my friend who also went shoeless.

This time was much worse though, and I really don’t know why. I mean it was like this shopping centre which was less of a shopping centre and more of a plaza; Welland Plaza to be precise, accurate, clear-cut, exact, specific, defined, fixed, strict… thank you Microsoft Word synonyms. Anyway, so this place was kind of dero, well not like that, that sounds mean, but compared to Marion it was just lower class. I don’t know why though, but I just felt even worse than I did when we were walking around with no shoes in Marion, and I think that this is due to a few main reasons.

The first reason would have to be the fact that none of us had showered yet, we all were wearing the same clothes as we were wearing the previous day as well, I mean it’s not like someone working at one of the shops in the bloody Welland Plaza would have been like ‘you fucking disgusting disgrace to the human race, you wore that same outfit yesterday, you fucking freak!’ but you know, I knew, so I just felt… shit. Looking around the plaza, it was hard to notice the fact that we were the only ones wearing shoes, and it was even harder to find anyone else who wasn’t wearing shoes, but it was easier to realise that those two sentences really mean the same thing.

The second reason was, well I think anyway, it made it worse because we were just talking about it the whole time, I mean Chris didn’t seem to care or know or anything, I was kind of worried about how fucking disgusting we looked but Tom seemed to be almost freaking out, he was so ashamed of himself and he just didn’t know why we don’t wear shoes like normal people. I mean the pinnacle for me was when I saw this baby in a pram wearing little baby shoes, I mean that baby is not going to be doing any walking, surely he can go barefooted, but he had more decency than all of us.

It’s Hannah’s eighteenth tonight, and I mean, I do have like, what, like eight, nine hours to get ready but I am going to rap this one up, go have a shower, go home, get my shoes and yeah, just be a normal person. I am sick of having black feet, like they are black as all fuck, they look so dirty and I am almost ashamed of myself for letting it get this bad. If you read this though, and you can be bothered, let me know what you think of not wearing shoes, because I am bloody curious if we are normal or if we are actually the bare and black footed freaks that I think we are.

The real dream.

Like everyone in the world who sleeps I suppose, I hate waking up out of a good dream. Especially those dreams that you think are real, like those ones where something great happens and it feels just as real as reality, and you wake up to find that the reality of awesomeness was just a dream when you look beside you and see that the double bed with that hot babe in it that you had sex with is actually the wall that my single bed is pressed up against, because I was lying in a single bed with no hot babe in it; absolutely devastating.

I have noticed that a lot of the time that I am dreaming, I know that I am dreaming, so I tell myself to do something that I normally wouldn’t do in reality so that I can test myself out in this dream world that my head has placed myself in. For some reason, dream Cosma doesn’t listen to me all the time, and as much as I tell him to do whatever it was that I was telling him to do, he was just being a dick head and just, not doing it. Although the say that I have over dream Cosma is very, very limited, as he is a disobedient dick head, I still think that the acts that he puts himself through are real. Even when the acts involve impossible things such as flying, fighting off giant spiders and buying things with the money that I don’t have, I still wake up thinking that they happened, and then find myself devastated when I realise that they didn’t happen.

My most recent dream that I thought was real started with me sleeping for fifty six hours and then waking up realising that I have missed two days of blogging. This dream is impossible for a few main points, one being that there is no way that I could sleep for that long, and if I could, surely within those fifty six hours my mum would have checked on me to see if I was alive or something, or my phone would have rang or something or bloody, something would have happened to wake me up. Also, I don’t think that the thing that would have been top on my mind would be the fact that I have missed two back to back blogs, but maybe that I slept for so long, and how bloody weird that is... actually no, I would probably be too devastated about the missed blogs to care about the irregular extending sleeping.

The dream didn’t stop there though, it continued to see me wake up, see this is where the reality came into it because I woke up in my dream, I went outside and mum was just like ‘yeah you have been asleep for two, nearly three days,’ but she didn’t seem fazed by it whatsoever, like she thought it was good or normal or something, I don’t know. I walked out of the house and just went for a walk or something, now this raises a few more impossible points that should have shown me that this was just a dream. First of all, I didn’t need to piss or shit or anything, now if Austin Powers taught me anything, which it did, it was that if you are asleep and or frozen for a long period of time, you will need to take a piss, and probably shit. Another was that I wasn’t hungry or anything, I mean I have not been getting as hungry lately as I used to, but I think that if I woke up two, nearly three days later, that I might be keen for some food.

During the walk, around about four steps from my front door I saw this hot ass chick and she was like ‘yeah you missed some blogs’ or something and then I was just telling myself, ‘yeah this is a dream, you should fucking, try and get in there dream Cosma,’ and then he did and failed, and this is when I was thinking... bloody dream Cosma never listens to me, but he did just then, maybe this isn’t a dream, maybe this is reality. I mean I listen to me, but dream Cosma doesn’t, but whichever Cosma that was just then, he listened to me. Then I told dream Cosma or whichever it was to go and write a blog, I mean he whichever Cosma this was he needs to write something, I mean he is well overdue for one of these. I feel like I am describing my experience with The Sims or something, talking about telling Cosma to do stuff, but anyway, I went to make a blog and then there was this disclaimer that said that my blog had been shut down due to inactivity. Now that was utter bullshit, I mean I have not written a blog for three days once, like I wasn’t logging in and writing blogs over schoolies but when I got back there was no inactivity message.

I knew it was a dream, but it didn’t feel like one of those real feeling dreams, it felt more real than that, it felt really, really real, just as real as real life, if not even more real, and realer than real life is just fucking way too real to even comprehend, even with the over usage of the word real in this sentence you still don’t understand how real it felt. Unless you yourself are real and then you would probably know how real reality is, and that is how real it was, maybe more, definitely not any less real than the realness of that reality. I woke up again, as in it wasn’t the original waking up in the dream after nearly three days of sleep but it was the waking up after the dream, and this is when I found out that it was actually a dream. The only thing that confuses me is that if that dream felt that real, how do I know how real this is?

I have always been a fan of thinking about (1) who we are, (2) what we are doing here and (3) where we came from, I mean the obvious answers to them are (1) human, (2) having good times and (3) a vagina, but really, life is fucked. It is fucked how we are even a thing and what will happen after we die, or what happened to us before we were born, were we anything? Were we a soul looking for a body or were we just nothing, waiting to be born, and if the answer is nothing, then does that mean that in the end that is what we will all become? Whenever I start thinking about things like this I get scared, because I can’t comprehend the fact that if there is nothing after death, then I will become nothing, like I will be nothing, just a black nothing floating round nowhere, but not even that, like there would be nothing to even comprehend...

Although I get scared when I think about these things, I just remind myself that I am being a fucking retard and that I should just stop and bloody live life, because that is all we can do right now; live life and have good times. As far as I know, that is what we are here for and that is all I want to do, and all that I am doing.