Whateva

I was told today that people might think things about me, based on the clothes I wear and the way I look.
To that I say: who gives a fuck.
Tell me something I don't know about the world. Tell me about a world where people couldn't give a fuck what happens to you, but pretend to listen anyway. Tell me that it's hard enough being a kid, let alone not being normal. Tell me that some fuck is going to look at me and think: psycho killer. Tell me all this and I'll tell you I know all of that shit already.
Good things happen to bad people, and bad things happen to good people even more often.
Fuck, who cares. The world is going to screw you over, regardless of whether you are the most well liked person in the world, or the one everyone hates. One day, this world you have given so much to will drop you on your ass.
It's a well known fact.
Since the day you were born you have just been on a path to destruction, because eventually you and everything you love will be gone. Unfourtunately everything you love is usually the first to go, then, when you are miserable and worn down, the world will finally screw you over for the last time and you will die too.
And fuck, maybe I'm overreacting, but I couldn't give a fuck about what this world says.