I hate how my mom calls me crying all of the time. What the Hell am I supposed to do about it?

The funny thing is that lately more than ever, I have been ridiculing people who never seem to think about anything. They are categorized as ignorant or inferior, detestable really. Society was seen as going on some downward slope towards ultimate degradation: utter mindlessness. But of course. I don't see how I didn't realize until now. Really, I had this presumption. Wrong, of course. The wrong presumption that knowledge, that enlightenment really accomplished anything, really was some sort of worthwhile pursuit. Ha ha. Obviously none of it matters. Maybe medicine or something, to keep the blood pumping for those who can't accept death. You know, want to keep on going, stabbing at it or what have you. Good for them, really. (It seems horribly hilarious to me right now, in this state I'm in.) It's like a fascination people have for the morbid. Desiring incessant torture, or what. Irony is one of the more appreciable things in life, isn't it? Ha, but of course. Yes. Perhaps it's only me that's tortured by it. Ah. Okay, but you must realize. Whoever you are, damned fool that you are, that I actually used to have values. Expectations and whatnot. I was very noble (in some respects). I probably still am of course; it's unavoidable. Silly, but unavoidable. Anyway, I had goals and expectations and all of that. Much more than you did, I don't doubt. I believed, so very thoroughly, in, you know, knowledge, truth, justice, and funniest of all(!) humanity. I thought, you know, people were ultimately nice. Good. That pristine souls, glowing white (Maybe even visible? Perhaps I glimpsed one once?) were hidden inside all of us. It's a crazy thing to believe, given reality, I realize. But, I really am excellent at believing things that are difficult. Even when I find everything you do much more ugly than the average individual. I like to think all of the ugliness is deception. It's quite cute really. Isn't that innocence? Aow, lovely little term, idea, something that does exist. That's why everyone thinks on it so affectionately.

I'll end this. I'll go sign up for my therapy sessions and whatnot to try to forget how useless, meaningless this day, everyday, is. (Which of course never works, as I despise therapists. I suspect they laugh about me as I speak. I would! No no, that is not the case. EYE laugh at how they should be laughing at me, but aren't, and instead manage to seem so sincerely concerned about what I'm saying. It's hard not to make it a game, to see how much I can horrify them. Isn't that what I'm doing now? To you folks? As though people actually give a damn about each other!)

Heh. In some sort of delusion I grabbed my journal earlier and wrote. This is my favorite side note from it: "I'm dripping snot on my hands and pillow, this book too. It drips and then I unthinkingly lick it off." I feel like that's my favorite thing I've ever written.

I am becoming increasingly awkward as I become increasingly aware that things are wrong. Indeed, I only sound natural when things feel right. Otherwise, everything is forced. The looks only make things worse.