I Give Myself Too Much Credit...

I seem to have this ongoing idea in my head that I am capable of responsibilities that could very well get me:
a) arrested.
b) hospitalized.
c) kidnapped.
d) blamed.
e) all of the above.

I've considered a-d and have decided that e is the most appropriate answer when I think about driving to Los Angeles tomorrow. For some stupid fucking reason, I thought it would be a grand idea to stuff five people in my tiny 2000 Toyota Echo (two of them being eleven year-olds) and drive an hour and a half to Hollywood at 8:00 in the AM in order to purchase something at a comic shop I've never been to so that we can get tickets to meet Gerard Way ten hours later at 8:00 in the evening, all the while driving through Hollywood trying to find something to do, even though I've never been to that part of Hollywood before and I hate people there as it is.

>_>

Suicide has crossed my mind twice, but in all honesty, I'm not selfish enough to kill myself, not to mention that I don't have the patience to figure out some immaculate and grand way to end my existence.

For Dalai Lama's sake, why would I ever want to drive to Los Angeles early in the morning? Why would I want to take responsibility for two eleven year-olds, one of them increasingly annoying? Why would I want to be forced to worry about my piece of shit car breaking down, even when I already know that it can't hold that many people in the first place? I'll tell you:

I give myself way too much credit. I somehow think that I'm some sort of amazing person that can make this kind of shit happen and work flawlessly, that I can just plan something and expect everything to work in my favor.

In truth I'd rather sit back and let someone else take the reins on wacko trips like this. What surprises me more is the shit hasn't hit the fan quite yet. But tomorrow could end my lucky streak.

Just do me a favor and pray for me, think positive thoughts for me or at least pity me. Somehow, it will help. The only reason I'm going through with it this late in the game is the fact that there's four people counting on me.

*Writes "martyr" on forehead*

I would say that it's worth meeting Gerard Way, but I've gotten to the point in my life where no one is truly worth meeting for all this trouble unless it's Jesus Christ himself. Sorry Gerard, it's not that I don't think you're awesome, it's just that anxiety is the cheese to my macaroni.

Thank you Juno.