I don’t want to be interesting anymore.

I don’t want to write anymore. Or draw, or have stupid little ideas about life or things I can or cannot change. I don’t want to have these dreams about desperation. I don’t want to get angry or sad about things. I don’t want to need to do exciting things or go overseas or see pretty places. I don’t want to feel the way I do. I don’t want to be Ryan. I don’t want already.

I just want to be happy.
I just want to be happy.

I want to be in love and hold hands and smile a lot just because I’m with a girl I’m crazy about. I want to give her little hugs from behind and light kisses on her eyelids. I want a stable, boring job I can come home from and be tired. I want to write badly and I want all my doodles to be ugly. I want to be nice and honest and stable and hardworking and boring and loving.

I don’t know why I’m like this.

Ryan is stupid.
Ryan is ugly.
Ryan is self-indulgent and unstable.
Ryan makes people feel unhappy. All the people who are supposed to matter.

I hate Ryan. I really and truly do. I wish he would die. I wish he would just die.