I live life backwards.

Forward through a door I see this girl and she's sorta just standing there looking mysterious and shit and I'm standing on the outside of the door looking like a fool but I'm going to try to do something...

I don't know what but I'm going to do... something...

The post in which I tell you that you're worth it and people are shitty.

My friend, inspiration, and secret gay lover (LAWLJK) texted me the other day, after I inquired why his blog was no longer visible.

"I'm going away for a while" was his response. I sat there for a second and thought to myself about what to say. I thought about the fact that leaving isn't going to change the fact that people suck and that life is always going to get a little bit shitty. So I texted him back and told him that when he comes back people are still going to be dumb. He told me I'm a cool cat. I told him that I knew already.

I want everyone to know that they are loved, and that nothing that they do will ever change that. There is always somebody out there who thinks that you're an amazing person and that you're the best thing that will ever happen. 

<3

(909) 261-4756 I'm here for you.

The Post That Starts With "So Today"

So today I was thinking about how much I've changed over the past 4 years. I graduated. I matured. I have almost none of the same friends that I did freshman year. I've had seven girlfriends over those four years, six in my first three, before I finally landed on The One That Matters. I've spent 4 years in one school, one endless loop of unhappiness, one system of pass, fail, pass, fail. I've grown up, though. One day, maybe I really will.
I assume that there are really people out there who are so devastatingly unhappy with their own lives that they honestly get online sometimes and look for stories of other people being unhappy or some shit, not so that they feel less alone, but so that they don't feel like such a fuck up. They hope that someone else's life is worse than theirs is and the sad part is that they're always right. There's always someone worse off, and that's a very depressing statistic. Nobody deserves unhappiness, although some people sure as hell do come close.
I am talking to Daniel and he is somewhere but he is not at home, and I want to IM him instead of text him, but he is somewhere and not at home. And, meanwhile, here I am. I'm here. I'm here bored, wanting to actually talk to someone, and hold a conversation, as opposed to a broken session of every now and then. And my girlfriend refuses to respond, and my life is fucking boring as hell. OH GOD.
I'm becoming one of those broken records who post on facebook about how shitty life is even though their lives aren't nearly that bad.


MAN FUCK THE POLICE.

"Don't you have a girlfriend?"

Probably, maybe, I guess, yeah. I mean, it's inconsequential I think. She's my girlfriend and I love her, and would never do anything to hurt her, but is it necessary to constantly announce that she exists?

Probably.

joseph 06/14/2011 09:45:18 PMWhat do you want to do Ryan
Ryan 06/14/2011 09:46:38 PMWebcam with a young fit looking jailbait teen girl.with small tits. 06/14/2011 09:46:51 PM joseph 06/14/2011 09:46:58 PMhahahaha XD
Ryan 06/14/2011 09:47:03 PMor webcam with a young chubby jailbait teen girl.with okay tits. 06/14/2011 09:47:07 PM joseph 06/14/2011 09:47:09 PMI actually meant with your life
Ryan 06/14/2011 09:47:16 PMso did I.
But I didn't really. That's not what I want to do. That sounds so boring and stupid.

I don't like that kind of shit any more.

I used to.

But now I don't.

Oh well.

The Following is Based Off Of True Events (And Also Some Made-up Ones)

"Sometimes, when I get especially lonely, I like to sit there and look at pictures of times when I wasn't that lonely."
"So that you feel less lonely?"
"I think that's the basic idea, but it never really works. I always end up feeling thirty times worse, and wishing I wasn't so lonely."
I just frown, and she just lights another cigarette. I pull my sleeves down to my thumbs as she takes another draw.  "It's like," She starts, pausing and frowning uncertainly, the smoke curling in cyclical patterns around her head, "it's almost as if it's an addiction for me." Her hands drop from near her neck to their lowest point, and she nods slowly. "That's exactly what it is."
"What is it?"
"I'm addicted to loneliness."
"You have me."
"Don't be silly." Her warm breath condensed in the cold fall air, "You're not actually here for me. You felt bad, and you were told to help some people out with themselves after you tried to kill yourself. You chose me because you knew me and you thought I was hot. You don't really care. You just hope I'll think you're nice enough to let into my pants."
She didn't know me, then.
"You don't know me, then."
She smiled, almost like it comforted her that I had said that, and Amy looked to me for the first time and quickly looked away. She wasn't alone, but she didn't care. As far as she was concerned, of course she was. We all were, in her mind. She would rather that all of us be lonely, since it was easier for relationships and the like.
"Nobody is alone, Amy, we all have somebody there for us."
"Even the sinners?" She said that word with such disgust. Such anger and hatred. For someone who constantly asserted she was atheist, she seemed to have a distaste for sinners. When she said the word 'sinners' it was as if she had said the word 'rapists' or 'murderers.' She didn't believe in God, yet she believed in sin.
"Even the sinners, yes."
"Who would be there for people like that? Who would be there for them?"
"I am."
"You are. You're there for everyone. You don't have standards."
"Maybe so."
Her hands slipped into the pockets of her white coat, she fumbled for another smoke. Upon pulling it out, her pale hands reached towards the lighter she had laid on the table, and instinctively, I grabbed it first, holding it back behind me, out of her reach. The look on her face was not one of disappointment or anger. It was of amusement as she reached into her pocket again and pulled out a match, struck it against her jeans, and lit the cigarette. Dejectedly, I set the lighter back on the table, and she pulled it back towards her.
"You don't have standards, Evan, somebody with standards would have avoided being here for me."
"I never argued that fact."
"Fuck you too, then."
"No. That's not why I'm here, Amy."
"It is."
"Amy there has to be something else going on with you."
"There isn't, okay?"
She stood up and started to walk away.
"Then keep running from everyone."
She stopped. Cliche.
"I can't."
"Why can't you? You realize that you might actually need somebody? Even someone like me with no standards? Someone who doesn't give two shits about you if you're not going to let me into bed with you?"
"No. I can't run because your back door is locked and you live on the fourteenth floor."
"Then talk to me."
She turned around and pressed her hands to my shoulders, putting her face level with mine. She seemed annoyed. "I don't have anything to talk about, okay? It's my own damned life."
"Fine, theres a key under the mat."
"Why? It's the fourteenth God damned floor."
"Because I lock myself out sometimes."
"How do you do that, Evan?"
"Just do, I guess. I never really realize it. Hardly ever come out here and so when I do I often lock the door behind me accidentally."
"And you got tired of phoning a neighbor?"
"I got tired of wondering if I would survive the fall."
She seemed taken aback, not as though she didn't expect that answer, more like she didn't expect it to be put so bluntly.
"You never thought like that," she reached back for her cigarettes and I shook my head.
"I used to. I would stand out here and just wonder if I would be able to still breathe after I hit the ground."
"I bet you would."
"Thats why I didn't jump."
Once again, a look of disbelief. She seemed interested in me, now, instead of the other way around. The way her hand shook as she pulled out the pack of Marlboro Lights, the way her eyes focused on me as she simultaneously pulled out her lighter, how her mouth hung open a bit as she tossed the cigarettes from the balcony, all of them hinted that she was suddenly curious about my canting.
"So you tried to kill yourself?"
"Never tried. I contemplated trying, but I decided that I'm probably immortal."
"Really?"
"No."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
There was a brief pause, both of us seeing if the other was going to speak.
"Why did those thoughts even spring into your head? You seem like a happy person."
"I guess I do, but life wasn't easy for me when I was a kid, or when I was a teenager, or when I first got this apartment on the fourteenth floor of some building in some suburban city. As a child, my father wasn't around much, but when he was, he was busy beating the shit out of one of us. My mom, was, obviously opposed to this and left him when I was 10."
Once I paused to swallow my spit and inhale a bit, as I was short of breath, Amy decided to open up, finally.
"I have three sisters." She sort of spurted it out, like it was hard to say, "Two older and one younger, the younger lives with me, but you weren't wondering."
"Why does she live with you?"
"Because she-"
"Sorry, that's not my first question... Why are they important?"
She closed her eyes and whispered something about her cigarettes before deciding to go further into her past than I had expected.

"I wasn't religious as a kid. I'm not now, either, but for a period of time I was heavily religious. When we were kids, we only had our dad. Our mom died soon after I was born, my youngest sister is adopted, and before that, she worked all day. Anyway, I never knew what was happening, but my two older sisters, twins, would get home from high school and my father would do things to them. Sin against them. And so, when I became an eighth grader, he told me I was finally old enough. Constantly reminding me that I was beautiful, and he loved me."
She coughed twice.
"And so as an eighth grader, I prayed every day that God would take this evil man away from me. He adopted my little sister when I was six, and I was suddenly afraid for her. My older sisters had moved away, hardly ever speaking to me. And so I prayed. I prayed and prayed and never got an answer. I went to church and did all I could to get Gods help and he never helped. So I gave up on God."
"And this is why you mentioned your sister?"
"Thats why I took her with me when I moved here. I didn't want him near her. She didn't know why, misses her father. But I let her cry. It's better than it could be."
"Have you ever-"
"No. Nobody knows but you. But you're still not here to help me. I can tell. I can see it in your eyes."
"I promise you Amy-"
"I've been used enough, Evan."
She would get up, and turn towards the door. I would watch her drive off and I would never see the girl again.

--+--

Cigarette smoke still lingered in the air, although I had quit four months ago. Not much remained of Evan, besides the fact that I no longer smoked, and that my eyes were now a bit baggier than previously. My mind often thought about the fact that I could have just told him the truth, or just spread my legs for him or do whatever, but I quickly dismissed it, since I had already left, and he was probably dead or something. But day after day, my sister would get home and she would go to her room and my boyfriend and I would follow. It always stung a little bit. And it always will. But I can never stop turning on the camera and helping him. She can never stop crying. He will never stop sinning.

Five Steps To Becoming An Extremely Good Liar (And Therefore A Moderately Good Lover)

Step 1. The Part Where It Becomes A Habit


I spend a lot of my time reading the musings of people I'm influenced by, while not believing in God and also, simultaneously, at the same time and redundantly, believing in God. I find it very hard to believe in something that never gave me my brother back, never gave me a second chance at anything and seems to have a habit of hiding in toast, but I also seem to find it very hard to live my life without this very fundamental belief. I have always thought that I could be a responsible, good person with morals even if I didn't believe in the afterlife or God or Jesus or Buddha or Mohammed or Allah or fucking Reptilian Humanoids from the 4th Dimension or L. Ron Hubbard or some shit. I fully believe that I can, but I'm overwhelmed with the idea that there's no point in it. I can't help but think that if there is no God then I've been wasting my entire life being both a horrible and a great person because theres not some ultimate reward. So I choose to be confused and remain confused. This is where everything starts, my in ability to make up my fucking mind.

Step 2. The Part Where it Starts Making A Difference.


I have trouble deciding sometimes if I want to just give up on life or if I want to maybe do something with it. I think about the fact that many people have been presidents, kings, czars, fuhrers, inventors, authors, magicians, villains, heroes, assholes and douchebags and think to myself that I don't know most of their names, so if the point of the game is to be remembered, then a lot of people have lost. So why even play? If you've struck out your last 300 at bats, do you still go up to the plate? Do you think that you'll still hit that ever elusive home run? That quite possibly you swing the bat and you're remembered forever for everything? At some point it must stop being confidence and start becoming wishful thinking. I say that line is once you start considering giving up. If you've considered quitting, then you've already failed. So what's even the point?

Step 3. The Part Where it Starts Hurting You.


The point is that even if you won't be remembered forever by name, at least make a fucking dent in the wall of eternity. If you've already lost, make an effort to lose passionately. See, I don't know who invented butter but I do enjoy a lot of butter. I'm sure somewhere there's some butter asshole who bathes in that shit and fucks a butter sculpture of Oprah Winfrey and I'm pretty sure he knows who invented butter. So remember, if you're not going to be remembered by name, make sure that you at least leave a god damn foot print. Life is not defined by the choices you make, but the risks you avoid. So don't avoid those bitches.

Step 4. The Part Where it Becomes An Addiction


Throughout my entire life I have known a large diversity of people. I've known so many different kinds of people, I'm sure at least one of them will kill someone some day. Some of them are gay, some of them are straight, some of them are black and some are white. A lot of them are girls, and still a lot are guys. And I have, time and time again, changed who I was pretending to be in order to make one or more of them happy. Sometimes I was extremely homo, because otherwise my entire art class wouldn't have thought I was nearly as cool. Sometimes I was incredibly douchey because it was absolutely necessary in order to maintain this whole "everyone hates me and idgaf" attitude thing that I had going for me. But right now, I can pretty much say that I'm comfortable being myself and that's a good thing. I'm not pretending to be something else. I don't know what happened, but apparently sometimes it's cool to be cool.

Step 5. The Part Where You Become A Fucking Pro


"When your heart feels like that, is it after any athletic activities?"
"Sometimes."
"And sometimes it's just-"
"In bed. Mostly when I'm about to sleep."
"Okay... And it says here that you're bi-polar, is that correct?"
"Yeah. Yeah it's correct."
"Okay. Well, I don't know what it is."
"It's nothing then?"
"We can't say that. But we can say that if it is something, we have no clue what it is."
"Fantastic."
"I'm sorry. We'll call you."
As I was leaving I suddenly realized that if I died at that moment, nobody would have a clue. I was alone in a hallway, nobody could see me, and it would be a good 30 minutes before anyone would even notice that I was there. I could die right now, and I doubt anyone would really notice for a while. There are plenty of times when I feel that way. If I died right now, nobody would remember my name in 20 years. I'm really just a kid. That's all we all are, really.

This is a post about dying.

"Ryan Dilks." I smiled at her and she smiled back, as if saying my name specifically brought her intense amounts of pleasure. I had always imagined stairs, but as it turns out, I had to walk up a ramp, not stairs. Which made me wonder why the kid from that episode of scrubs couldn't graduate. He was a burn victim and the problem was that he had to get out of the wheelchair. But there should have been a fucking ramp. This school has to have had more than one cripple.  This was going through my mind and everything was going slow motion and I reached forward and he handed me my fake diploma and shook my hand and he said congrats and I felt different. 

I felt older.

I felt... better.

"Thank you." And I walked off the stage. My family was cheering and so I turned to wave and point and feel proud of myself. I was still walking, down a line of juniors who apparently all knew me, because I knew all of them. On my right was Daniel. I had done it. But it still hadn't really sunk in. I sat back in my chair, after being hugged by the couple friends that had gone before me. Slowly the rest of them walked down the line, being greeted by the whole of us. And when Mr. Wilborn said to switch our tassles and shit because we graduated... I cried a lottle bit.

Here's a boy who didn't think it would ever happen. A boy who didn't really care if it ever happened.

But now? 

Now it happened.

And now I can do anything.

I'll probably lay in bed for the rest of summer.

But I need a fucking job.

How To Make Everyone Learn Your Name.

1. Stay Calm, You've Been Here Before.

"Ryan, I don't get it. You have all this potential and ability."
I hate these conversations. All she ever says is that I have 'potential.'
"I really don't! Why do you just decide it's easier to roll over and give up? You could be anything and you're choosing to be nothing, and you have no explanation for why!"
We have this talk once a fucking week and every week it's mostly the same: She yells at me to do something with my life, I nod my head and refuse to respond in more than a few words. This week it's different though.
"It's like you don't want to do anything, your therapist says you're work avoidant, but this is different. You're not just avoiding it this time, you're flat out fucking quitting and it's not good."
I should say I'm not choosing to be nothing. I'm not quitting on life. I'm not. I should say all of this before she says the next part but I don't. Instead she says this.
"It's just... Why are you so damn insistent on being a huge disappointment?"
I don't want to go back there. I hate everything about that woman. I have never wanted to cry more in my entire life. I did cry.


2. I Know It's Empty, And You're Lonely, But It's Gonna Be Fine.

I'm not usually one to take loss seriously. I roll with the punches and let things bounce off of me. Anymore, it's not a big deal when I fail. Except for tonight, apparently. Not only did I lose/fail/disappoint my self, I lost to someone who didn't deserve it. And in the process almost embarrassed myself. Leaving the school I wanted to pick up a trashcan and throw it. I wanted to push him into the tables. I wanted to kick him in the jaw. I wanted him to have a heart attack. He's my best friend and more than anything else, at that very moment, I wanted him to die. I felt a deep, burning hatred for him suddenly. I almost hurt him for something that was out of his control. But he knew it. He won the award even though she had planned on giving it to me. He won something that had my name on it. Literally. Enjoy my sloppy seconds, bitch, I already fucked your girlfriend.


3. The Answer Is Simple, Baby, Kill Yourself.

I've attempted suicide before. A dozen times. In plenty of ways, but we already knew that about me. Hardly anybody realizes that I did it recently. I tried to tie a tie in a compromising position and fall forward. I tried to do it. I tried twice. I figured it would make people happier if I wasn't around to disappoint them. Namely myself. The first time, The tie fell off. The second time, Daniel needed advice... And he needed me, something nobody has told me for a long time. And so I didn't. I didn't fall forward. And he never knew this until now....

I love you.
There's a reason you're my closest friend.

Melrose, CA.

You know how sometimes we make mistakes that we've made before and you know that you're making that mistake but you still make it?

"I did some bad things before I was a Marine." he frowned a little bit "things that take your memory away."
I was immediately reminded of me saying "I did some bad things before I met you. Things that I can't particularly say I regret."

She, of course, and as is to be expected, asked me what that meant. But I was afraid to tell her. Last night that mistake caught up with me. That mistake was sitting at a coffee shop next to Johnny Rockets. That mistake saw me before I saw her. And she tried not to make it obvious but I noticed.

I don't really know the difference between "I miss you" and "I hate you." They mean pretty much the same thing anymore. And so when she saw me and her eyes said "I hate you," and of course so did mine, I assume that we both meant "I miss you" even though I know it isn't true, because I can't stand her.

I'm not the one making a mistake. My girlfriend is. She knows it. I'm not worth anyone's time and I don't know why she's pretending I am, but I'm a bad person who has done bad things and she should not be dating me.

How To Disappoint Both Parents and Everyone You Love

1. Be Born With "A Gift"

I've always been intelligent. I've always been a talker. Both of these things constantly get me in trouble, because on one hand, I know what I'm talking about, usually, while on the other, I can't shut the fuck up. This has been regarded as both a blessing and a curse, depending on what I'm going through at that particular point in my life. During things like heated political debates and discussions about philosophical shit dealing with God and other bullshit I'm "very smart." But for some reason when I start telling a girl everything that she's doing wrong and start instigating fucking drama people call me a "self-absorbed douchebag." which hardly seems fair. They don't know jack-shit about me, how can they possibly say I'm "very smart?"

2. Refuse To Do Much Of Anything, Really


I used to have shit like "dreams" and "hopes" back before I decided that everything we do in life is really just bullshit anyway and there's no real purpose in trying to get something done if it's only a matter of time before we die and then people forget our names. Hardly anyone has ever gone down in history and whatever you have always dreamed of being likely hasn't had very many famous people in that field. Anyway I used to have a lot of hope. I aspired to do shit with my life, but I gave up on that at a pretty young age and settled instead for "doing whatever shit happens to fall right into my hands." This continues to piss people off because I do VERY little in the way of actual fucking work and yet I seem to have a lot of opportunities.

3. Come Up With A Bad-ass Excuse Like "Oh, I'm Just Waiting For The Right Time"


Theres this girl that I used to know who had a lot of advice for me, always. She thought I was going to be an amazing person, a great dad, an awesome president, a fucking bad-ass rich guy and a good friend. But instead I did a lot of giving up and I told her I didn't really give a shit about anything and she stopped being my friend because I'm a huge asshole. I have a lot of things wrong with me and most of them have to do with the fact that I'm work-avoidant but a huge heaping load of them are due to my extreme self-hatred. But that doesn't matter. Everybody hates themselves.

4. Die Sad and Alone With The Words "What If" As Your Epitaph.


There was an episode of Glee where they all wore shirts with the thing about themselves that they are embarrassed about, or hate about themselves.

Mine would, without a doubt say "HATES HIMSELF."
I spend a lot of time pretending I'm all that, and narcissistic and other shit, but really, I hate everything about myself from my nose to my bi-polar to my sexuality to my lack of fashion sense to my bathroom anxiety to my lack of respect for females to my lack of aspiration to my self-hatred. But since I would never be able to fit all of that shit on a shirt, fuck it.

"I'm leaving."

There's a place that I lock myself in my house every time I feel sad and I listen to sad music and send text messages to no one in particular and write letters to no one in particular and I cry a lot and I sit there and pity myself because self pity is what I'm good at and I wish I wasn't bi-polar and maybe didn't have bathroom anxiety and I cut myself because I'm pacifist and everyone asks whats wrong the next day and I'm sad because I'm ugly and I hate myself because I'm a bad person. And I wish sometimes that I believed in a reason to live but I don't and I always pretend it's fine but it's not. It's a horrible thing. I don't believe that I have any reason to be alive besides that I'm alive now and I've always been alive and that's enough. But I don't have drive because what's the point if I don't even want to be alive? But then it sucks because I think I'm happy and shit and I start fucking doubting myself and I ask people stupid questions about whether they like me and shit and everyone has the same answer and it doesn't help, since they're just saying it to be nice and stuff. But it doesn't REALLY make a difference. I'm always going to be fucking weird.

How To Save Someones Life, While Simultaneously Killing Them.

1. Let Them Know That They Are Not Alone.

She changes her relationship status on Facebook to "Single." There is no lack of comments from perverted guys who want her to make love to them, and kiss them and touch them. She has been single for a week, when they broke up, she told me. Anyway, all these guys suddenly hit on her and she is disgusted, she tells me she is disgusted. I tell her it's cause she's pretty. She tells me I shouldn't have a girlfriend. I tell her that I'm sorry, but I'm in love. A year ago I would have dated her, but now I have a girlfriend and I'm in love with her. So she is single now, and nearly every guy wants her except for the one that she wants and when I tell her that I know how it feels to be able to have the world, when all you want is a marble. And she said that everyone knows how it feels. I gave her a hug and we fell down. My hand hurt, but oh well, because she's my friend and I care about her. But I have a girlfriend and I'm in love. But she doesn't like that fact. Oh well. We all want things we can't have.

2. Grab Their Hand, Kiss Their Cheek and Be There.

One time, I thought I was going to die, and I expected to die, but I didn't die and that's okay. I was just really, very sick, but I didn't die. I was just sick. I never really wanted to die, I was too weak to accept death, I'm always going to want to die later, especially if I am dying. I'm always going to want something to be different and therefore I want to die later. I don't really think anyone wants to die. I think that there are some people who are less afraid of dying, but I don't think that anyone is okay with dying. Even if you commit suicide. You don't want to die. You're just weak. Very very weak.

3. Be Their Ladder, and Help Them Out Of The Hole.

One time, I had to convince someone not to commit suicide, and it proved to be very hard. I kept them from killing themselves by telling them that I wouldn't be invited to their funeral, and they said that I would, and I said that no, I wouldn't. She had been friends for a while, but her parents didn't know me and stuff, so I wouldn't have been invited. It might have been nice to be invited, but theres no chance. Anyway she didn't kill herself, because she decided that if I wasn't going to be at her funeral then what was the point of dying anyway. But really I think she just wanted me to be sad. Some people like seeing other people sad. I guess I would have been pretty distraught, but she didn't believe that I could be sad if I didn't even go to her funeral. Besides what do you even say at a suicidal funeral?

4. Realize That They Have Fallen In Love With You.

Among the amount of people I have helped out of suicide, there is one that I can't get off of my mind, because I helped her out of suicide, and then she killed herself. I had a girlfriend, but my friend liked me a lot. And she was going to kill herself because I had a girlfriend that wasn't her, so I cheated on my girlfriend with her, hoping that it would stop her from doing anything stupid. And for a bit, it did. But when I told her that I had a relationship, and I was sorry, but I couldn't keep pretending that we were going out, she did something stupid and killed herself. I still feel guilty for this. My current girlfriend knows what happened, she knows I feel guilty still.

5. Don't Ever Let Them Know That You Have Fallen In Love With Them.

I tried to kill myself a couple times, but I'm too weak to even die. I tried to strangle myself in the shower, drown myself in the pool, slit my wrists, hang myself and stab my own throat, but none of it worked. I remember being in elementary school and I was so upset with my entire shitty life that in the middle of class, 5th grade, I tied my backpack to my neck and dropped it, choking myself.  My friend panicked and my teacher took me to the nurse. I was a pussy even when I was a kid. How can you not deal with life? Nothing is more shit than death. 

How To Marry A Prince and Become Royalty

1. You Have To Be Beautiful.

I've been alive for a long time. I'm young, I'm a kid, and I will always be a kid, but in reality, I have been alive for a long time. A lot longer than a lot of other people have gotten to live, but that's beside the point. Of the people who have lived long enough for me to know, most of them have had this notion that they're ugly, and people are ugly, and everything is ugly. But everything is not ugly, and you are not ugly, and everyone is beautiful. We all have ugly qualities, I'm bipolar with a bad past and no ambition and an idealist view on everything, but the beauty is in all of that ugliness. The beauty is the fact that you're human and you have horrible features and you can feel guilt and whatnot, the beauty is in the fact that we can love, and we can create, and we can learn. And we are all unique. That is the beautiful part. That you are you and that God, or something for which He is a metaphor, made you that way and you can be happy, and you should be happy, and you should never ever ever forget that there are billions of people on this planet. And they are all jealous of you, because they all wish that they were as beautiful as you.

2. You Have To Be Famous.

I once knew a girl who had this obsession with becoming famous. She let it get in the way of everything, especially relationships. She was willing to do everything to get where she wanted to get, and the saddest part is that she'll never get it. She wants so bad to be famous and be a star that she fails to realize that she was, at some point. She doesn't understand that at one time, there were a lot of people willing to do whatever for her because she was pretty, and she could sing and act, but she treated them badly and now they don't like her. It's regrettable, but what, really, are you going to do? Some people were born to be hated.

3. You Have To Believe In Love.

Throughout my 17 years I have stopped believing in things and then started believing in things, but one thing has been constant. Love has always been the message. It has always been what I believe in and stand for. I do everything in the name of love. I support love. I support happiness. Love is real, and it is undeniable, unavoidable, and unmistakable. And it hurts. And it destroys. And it sucks. But that is what makes it so amazing. Love is so complex, and unique that it can do so many things and all of them are powerful. And none of them can be stopped. Fuck the rules and fall in love.

4. You Have To Realize That The World Is Nothing But A Ferris Wheel.

Some people think of life as something to be taken seriously and worked hard at. But that's not what it's all about. You were blessed with the opportunity to be alive, so use that chance however you want. Life is just a giant board game, and that's all it will ever be, so we have to remember and accept and love that. You don't need to worry about God punishing you. You will punish yourself. The homeless drunk on the corner will not go to hell because he is already living it. The racist bigot in the bar hates himself and all he is. Life is a game, but there are no winners or losers.

5. You Have To Be Able To Imagine. 

You will never meet a prince to marry. You will never find your way, suddenly, thrust into the world of royalty and wonderfulness. But life is what you make it. And the key is to remember that you are beautiful, and you can fall in love, and you can be famous if you try, and you live in a theme park, and this world is yours for the taking, you just have to reach out and take it. That is how to finally be happy.

And all those white lines that sped us up.

We hurried to our death.
Well I lagged behind, so you got ahead.


In a few days I'll be in the future and there's not much to do there but that's where I'll be. Maybe I'll be dead, although with any luck I'll be alive still, but who really knows. And we;ll walk across a stage and get some piece of paper that tells us how to get our diplomas, and then we'll go to college or burn in hell or something. But we definitely won't fail.

Failure is not an option.

How To Kill Yourself From the Inside Out, Part 2

1. Pretend To Have A Mental Disorder

i feel very uninterested in everything and i want to get up and play video games or something but i can't because i'm too busy writing. maybe if i talked to my friends while  going fast and turning left i'd suddenly feel happier but i doubt it. my sister and brother in law got back from maryland last night while i was asleep and i still havent seen my sister because shes at work and thats fine because she has to work otherwise i wouldn't get dinner tonight but i'm hungry and i miss my sister. 

2. Base Relationships Entirely On The Basis That You're Insane

I want to leave here. Not to go anywhere specific, but I want to leave... here. And just stop being here. I don't know why but I'm done being right here at this moment in this spot, because theres no reason for me to be right here at this moment in this spot.

3. Create A Blog Based Entirely On The Assumption That You're Insane

Sometimes I used to feel like drinking hard liquor and getting plastered and raping my ex-girlfriend. Thats an unhealthy thought to have, but sometimes I wonder if there will be any real repercussions or if she would react at all. But I'm turned off by the thought of being that drunk. Thats a bit interesting I guess, it's not the rape that turns me off, it's the drunkenness. She fucking hurt me pretty bad in the past and that's a bad thing. Maybe that's why I don't think that much of the rape.

4. Opt Out Of Insanity And Instead Choose Drugs

I wonder what I'll do with my life after I leave high school. Everyone says I should be a writer or some shit, those are the same people who say I should be a comedian or some shit. There are people who say I should be the president or some shit. And people who say I could do anything with my life, because I'm just that smart, and it's depressing that I lack ambition and shit. But really, I want to make enough money to open up the restaurant my family has always talked about opening. That's my secret goal. Thats what I've secretly always wanted. Because I'm a faggot, and my dreams don't coincide at all with my skill-set. I'll probably be a writer or some shit.

5. Reveal That You Never Did Drugs

I cuss a lot for artistic value: That's bullshit. I cuss a lot because I love cuss words. But maybe it is artistic in a way. When most people use obscenities it detracts from their writing or point or whatever. But when I cuss it adds to the point and the value and the point. It makes everything just that much stronger. Maybe people who get criticized for their cussing just aren't cussing right. I should teach a fucking class, because I cuss like a champ.

6. Hate Yourself For Being A Liar

Sometimes I want to be an inspiration, and get in stage with a bunch of people waiting to hear me speak, and praying that the curtain drops and they get to hear me say my name and a few pieces of unintelligent bullshit about mainstream media and turning pages and then i'll start to sing some equally arduous song about being yourself and living life and being beautiful and then I'll leave the stage and they'll chant for me and I'll walk back out and the girls will wet their pants and then I'll play the opening chord to some shitty song about sunglasses that sounds like it's about a girl I loved and everyone will sing it for me so that I can stay silent and soak in all the attention I'm getting because I wouldn't be doing it for the love of music, I'd do it for the lack of punctuation.

How To Break Someone's Heart and Not Consider Yourself A Bad Person

1. Find The Right Girl/Guy

"Um, hey. You know Ryan Dilks?"

"Yes?"

"Well he says you're cute"

"Ew."

"Yo, Dilks, she says 'Ew!'"

Fucking smooth, kid. Why did you think that it would be cool to get your friends to tell the girl you like that you like her. That has never been cool. Nobody has ever thought that that was attractive. There was never a girl that said "Ooh, social anxiety and an inability to talk to me without thinking that he looks like a fucking asshole, how cute and charming, I should sleep with him." Nobody likes people who can't say a fucking word. Thats why you go on chat-rooms and night time and masturbate while talking to weird people who are probably 90 year old faggots with beer-bellies anyway and that's a horrible habit to get into, kill yourself.

And so after that inner commentary and I've calmed myself down with rigorous self-hatred, I decide that it's time to like a different girl, and when I do, I end up either being a shy weirdo or being a douchebag and that's a bad thing, and I hate it.

2. Make Them Love You

"I love you, Ryan! You're really sweet. I've never had a boyfriend before, so..."

I would kiss her, but she looks like shit, and I hate the way she tastes. So I just give her a hug and nod. I should tell her that I don't like her but I don't, because I'm having too much fun being an asshole, because being an asshole can be a lot of fun, when you concentrate, I guess. Maybe I should just ignore her for a little bit and see if she stops caring, but I don't think she will, that tactic never really works. Maybe if I cheat on her she'll be inclined to break up with me. But then I remember that she's stupid, and will refuse to break up with me if I cheat. I wish I had the ability to just dump her. Maybe I really do like her. I've made that mistake before.

3. Slowly Distance Yourself (Not To Be Confused With Fucking Their Sibling)


I have a friend who says the word "Fuck" a lot. I do too, but he says it for fun, I use it for artistic value. Anyway, he says fuck a lot and he uses a lot of girls, not to make things hurt less, like I did, he does it because it's fun for him. He thinks it's a game to kiss a girl just to make her feel stupid, or fuck a girl and then, after a few weeks of telling her he loves her, fuck her sister (or brother, a few times.) But his favorite mode of action is to just stop talking to them. Delete their number, and just avoid them. Because they go nuts and he loves it. They spend a little bit of time hating him, but then they just want his cock and it's horrible. Because he gives them his cock and then makes them feel stupid. I have a friend who acts like a douche bag and knows it, and loves it. He says fuck a lot and I wish he wasn't my friend, but apparently I like running around with a bunch of people who make me feel like a better person, simply by being bad people.

4. Let Them Bleed


There was this girl I used to go with whose name was Riley, we weren't technically dating, but thats not the point. The point is actually a few years before we even thought about going out. Back in middle school, actually. We sat next to each other in math and we hated one another for no reason other than the fact that hating one another was so easy. I was a little, scrawny, annoying white kid and she was a bitchy, stuck-up Pinay who had a bad habit of falling in faux-love with my close friends. And naturally, because I'm attracted to things that are fucked-up, I liked her. A lot. We didn't hate each other all the time, actually, we went through cycles of being close and then being enemies. She invited me to her birthday party one day and there was this girl there that I also liked who would go on to be my first girlfriend, and I think she might have kissed me, but I don't know, because I didn't pay much attention, but she was cute. Anyway, Riley hooked us up, to some extent and I liked that. Riley and I went out a little bit, but not really, between my sophomore and junior year, and we broke up and I stalked her and she thinks I still am, but I'm not. I'm just trying to get back in touch, because frankly, it's not worth it to live your whole life hating someone for no real reason.

5. Forget Their Name


I use the words "I used to" A lot. I'm not sure why, but maybe it's because I spend a lot of time being ignored and then finally forgotten about. Anyway, I used to have these friends that I hung out with a lot and did a lot of things with and was moderately close to. We were like, a group. We were, in fact, the group. Only one of them still talks to me, and I don't know why, but one day we just decided to stop being friends. I guess that it's only natural to one day stop giving a shit about people who you used to hang out with, but that's a reality that most people try to avoid.

6. Tell Yourself That It Hurt You, Too.


The key to success in life is to just live until you die, without dwelling on anything except for what was immediate and unavoidable. That's what I tell myself. It makes it easier to sleep at night, especially when you're a kid with no ambition.

I'm Supposed to Be In Love.

May 21st is when the rapture is supposed to start. Thats kind of a shitty thing to have happen, right? Just... God come down and tell us who's right and who's wrong? To have the supreme being and controller of all that is holy tell a bunch of human beings that they were all sinners and deserved to die and burn in hell. The way I see it, I'm okay with going to hell. I think that it'd be okay to be punished, since I made a lot of mistakes in this life and I've sinned a lot. I sort of deserve it. I think I'd be more happy that I didn't just die than anything. I think that punishment, even eternal punishment would be okay. It's not really that big a deal. I've spent a large portion of my life being punished, and that's alright. We all make mistakes, but there is no definitive right, and there is no eternal wrong, so who's to really say that I've made any mistakes? I'm a virgin, so I haven't done all that premarital sex mumbo-jumbo. Of course, I spent a lot of months being a total asshole to a lot of really good people, but at the same time, I've been SUCH a nice guy.

And if you missed the heaping amounts of sarcasm in that post... Nobody can help you.
Ever.

Just To Make Sure That You Don't Hate Me.

Inside out and upside down is I suppose the way that my day went. I had a tough time doing anything because for some reason I felt really anxious.

Oh well.
Maybe tomorrow will be better, right?

God, please let tomorrow be better...

I'm Happy Just Because.

I saw a girl today at Knotts whose shirt said "God Loves Everyone." and I felt like nailing her right then and there. See, I hate people who hate. Hatred is so fucking weak, and so many people at my school are afraid of gays. Whereas I (no shit) Love Faggots. <3

Theres a hermaphrodite at my school without a name, well, she has a name, but we'll call her M. M fell in love with me a long time ago, and I adored it. M liked that I was tolerant. That's most peoples favorite part about me. Anyway, everyone hates her. because she's different, and it sucks to see that.

I have a twenty-something year old, who despite having a boyfriend, is totally attracted to me, and I'm pretty attracted back, He loves me for reasons I can't even fathom, since he's known me for a while. Anyway, I support happiness. And everyone should.

Love always: Ryan Dilks.

ps. I fucking hate quinceneras.

How To Kill Yourself From the Inside Out

1. Establish Yourself as Someone You're Not.

"It's because I don't want to fucking be here, but I'm getting a grade so I guess I'll fucking be here."

I was yelling, I haven't yelled in a long time and there were people staring, but I didn't stop yelling

I probably should have stopped because by the looks of things you didn't like my yelling, but I yelled anyway because I was angry and you weren't listening. Yelling wasn't making anything better, or even making any difference at all, but it felt sort of nice, in a strange, dark sort of way but I wanted to stop, I just wasn't. You tried to calm me down by grabbing my hands and telling me that I could just leave, my shift was over, I didn't need to wash another car, but I couldn't go home with you, and that didn't... it didn't calm me down. So I slapped you.

2. Hate The Person You've "Become"

This time last year I was showing people a picture of a girl that I was proud of myself for using, but I was also dating a girl that didn't live here. I didn't mind that I didn't like either of them, because I didn't feel emotions like that anymore. I didn't mind hurting them because I was blind to love, I didn't love them, I didn't love anyone. Some people probably got hurt, but none of them were me and I was perfectly okay with that, because as far as I was concerned, life wasn't worth living if you didn't have some entertainment every once in a while, even if the entertainment came in the form of hurting a girl that you told day after day "I love you" just so that she might show you her tits.

3. Cry About It, Write Some Poetry and Cut Yourself

I used to know this girl without a name and we said that we were "best friends" despite the fact that we had never met. We were "best friends" and that's what we kept saying. We weren't even allowed to talk, and yet we did some bad things that we shouldn't have done, that hurt some good people that we shouldn't have hurt. Both of us were either in or had just gotten out of pretty horrible relationships and we went to each other for cheap love and kind words, but mostly cheap love. Maybe a distraction from our lives being so shit, right then, but who cares because then she told me she was pregnant, and she lied and I went crazy and I changed and I became a bad person and it sucks.

4. Really, Truly, In All Actuality, Become That Person

When I was a kid my dad had this habit of being an asshole, and he would hit my mom and although I never saw it happen, I just knew. We all did. He was a friendly person until he got mad at random times, and his short fuse reached the end and he lashed out. And so he didn't let her hurt him, because he was too busy hurting her and not many people knew this, but he was my example as a kid. He's the reason why when I grew up, I thought that it was an okay thing to hurt other people because all that really mattered was not getting hurt yourself, and as long as you hurt her before she has the chance to hurt you, you won't ever be hurt but that was a lie that I didn't get my head out of until it was almost too late.

5. Refuse To Get Help

People still, to this day, come to me for advice about things that I have a tough time figuring out for myself and I seem to give them good advice that I can't follow. I'm a lot better at living someone else's life than I am at living my own, and that's a bad thing. But for the longest time I was afraid of asking for advice, even my therapist had a hard time getting through to me, because I didn't want anyone to judge me, in a kind of "only God can judge me" attitude, which is a weird thing for an atheist to feel... Only I can judge me, is really what it is. everyone else can go fuck themselves.

"You are not even that sad anymore. You have no purpose, people like you better when you're sad, but now you've cheered up and nobody likes you anymore."

Except that from now on I've decided that I will hurt no more people, because I'm a pacifist and I don't particularly like who I used to be, even if he isn't that much different from who I am now but that's inconsequential because I've changed, right? I'm a much better person now, right? People still... People still like me, right? Maybe it's true that people like me much better when I'm sad but that's not the point because you're supposed to still like me when I'm happy because you're supposed to want me to be happy but you want me to be sad and I hate that about you. You like me better when I'm sad. Everyone likes me better when I'm sad, because I think that murder is an okay thing, and I think that suicide is alright and I slit my wrists and pretend that nobody else has problems because I like it when my problems are bigger than everyone else's problems because I am a teenager and that's what I do. People feel like if I was always sad I'd have a better idea of the world, because when I am sad I have the strangest thoughts on people and things and life and you.

And you don't even care, because I'm not sad. I'm happy and I don't cut anymore and I don't condone suicide and I think that violence is a bad thing and I don't like drugs and I maybe don't write the same way or give as good advice or think that my problems are that big because I am a happy kid. I am a lucky boy. I have an easy life. But you don't even give a shit because you stopped being my best friend when I started being happy and stopped letting mental illness be my excuse because I was a liar when I was sad and people loved thinking I was someone I wasn't because I thought I was something I wasn't to the point where I made myself something I wasn't but that's not who I am because I live my life for myself now. And that's all that really matters, all else is sure to pass and die, the only thing that's constant in my life is that I will always be me. I will never have a more pleasant facial structure or a nicer skin tone, I will always be pale and ugly and that doesn't matter to me because I love me. And other people love me. Not everyone suddenly hates me because I'm happy, not everyone likes me better sad because I am still fully capable of writing and giving advice and caring about other people and thinking I'm God and lying and having a fucked up view of the world and the people who inhabit it and the things that we should do to make our lives just that much better for the one constant, ourselves.

So you can go suck a dick, because I'm sorry that my sadness makes you happy, but I assure you I am still a loved individual and if that's such a hard concept for you to grasp then you weren't my friend at all in the first place and I strongly regret ever knowing you, you slutty cunt.

Besides, you aren't even a real person.

First with your hands, then with your mouth.

I am sitting in the middle of the field not doing anything in particular when you walk up to me, and I'm wondering why you chose me to walk up to, but you walked up to me. I must have looked lonely because you sat by me, but I wasn't lonely, I must have just looked that way.

You came out to me.

Why does everyone come out to me?
It's not like he just came out to me, he told me he liked me.
I have known him since I was a freshman and he told me he liked me.
He doesn't even know I like dudes.

But you came out to me. You sat with me and held my hand and told me that you were gay and you were attracted to me and I said that I accepted it and embraced it and that I knew. You looked surprised that I knew but I knew. And I would love you to be here right now because maybe it's my turn to come out, but I guess it's not and I have a girlfriend but I'm gay for you. And in reality you did not sit by me on the field or hold my hand because I guess thats where my mind places us, but you did tell me you were gay and I did know that and you did tell me your real name, which I also knew, but that wasn't really the point because I didn't really give a shit and I still don't. But i'm here for you and I want you to know that I love you, and you're dead but I want you to know that I love you. But you won't ever know it because you are dead. But oh well because one day I'll be dead too and I guess that's how life goes and theres someone else I'm gay for and I think I might also love and theres a girl I've been dating for 8 months who I think I might also love but you're you and I'm me and that's it and that's good enough I guess...

But I think I'd rather you be alive.
Because I wan't you to know that I love you.

My new awareness charity is...

I <3 Fags.

I'm coming back.

I have never, more than at this moment, felt like I matter.
I guess it's the cheap, manufactured serenity of my life right now combined with the fact that I completely fail to grasp the fact that when I graduate, I will have no more plans and my life will essentially be over. I have no reason to do anything anymore, and this is a horrible feeling.
I'm graduating and it's scary.
I'm moving forward and I hate it.
I want to stay a little kid. I want my life to be... like it is now. It's so safe.
But in 30 days, my life will be done.
I will have no more plans, no more daily routines.
I'll be on my own with a girlfriend who loves me and a few close friends, but besides them I'll be myself.
Which is a concept I have a hard time getting used to, being myself.
Who would want to be themselves when you could always be someone else who doesn't suck nearly as bad?

But I guess I have to.
Everyone has to, and it's just my turn.
No more sitting here with the certainty that tomorrow I have school and I have to wake up and that's that.
I'll probably cry, I feel like you're supposed to cry at graduation, but I don't really think anyone ever cries because they mean it, I think they cry because they're supposed to, like at a wedding or a funeral.

Graduation is a funeral for your childhood years, that's why everyone dresses in black, probably. To celebrate the death of all the certainty in your life. After you leave school there's really only one thing thats certain, and it comes in the form of death. That's it. You will always die. Everyone has died. In fact, the majority of your time will be spent dead. 100% more people have died, than have lived forever.

You will die.
Everything dies.

Sometimes I write Stories. This one Is Called "Arienette"

"'Don't go,' I guess is what I should have said, but instead I stayed silent and made a half-assed attempt as grabbing your elbow to turn you around. It didn't make a difference, though, since you turned around anyway and looked at me with a sort of plea for me to say something. Anything. But I didn't. I should have told you not to go. But instead I stayed silent. Anyway, you turned and looked at me and I just shut my eyes. And you turned back towards the door and walked out, I could already hear you starting to cry and it ruined my attempts at telling myself I was right and you were wrong. But I just drew a deep breath and shut the door. Before you made it onto the street I was already leaning on the door. I suppose it was more like sitting at the door, but I was still on my feet. And  uh... And you stood there for a second. Hoping, I guess, that I'd open the door and say 'Don't go.' or that I'd say anything but that's unimportant, because I didn't open the door. And I didn't yell at you to stay. I didn't... I didn't...um... Didn't say anything. I just sat at the door and cried a little bit.

"And I guess if maybe I had said something, or grabbed you, or not opened the door for you to leave, or not shut it so quickly, or never... Never had fought with you that you'd still be here. Still be...Be right here. And instead of wandering out onto the sidewalk, I could have drove you. Or walked you. But that didn't happen and now it doesn't matter anyway. 'Cause... Everything happened the way it did and you crossed the street and he ran the red light and you... well... You aren't here.

"Do you remember how you always told me that I put too much blame on myself, when most things were beyond my control entirely? And that I always thought that when a fast food restaurant messed up our order it was because I wasn't, um... wasn't speaking clearly. And you would always do that thing where you played with my ear and say 'Ry it's okay... Things are gonna be fine.' And you would smile at me because I was letting too much effect me and you would say 'I'll just have lettuce on my burger.' and that would be that... They all think that this is one of those times. But I can't bring myself to believe that it wasn't all my fault, so I guess that should be a sign that it really is one of those times but oh well...

"I brought you that hat you liked, and my shirt... They're going to let me bury them with you. And a necklace. And I don't think that I'll ever have another girlfriend because I don't really think I'll be capable of loving someone else but if I do then I'm sorry..."

He took a pause and said a few more words.

"I think I'll be joining you soon."