Janie *FML
*Fuck My Life
written by Sabina England
my name is janie. people would ask me if my parents named me after janis joplin or after the clash song, i'd tell them no. they simply named me janie because it was short and simple. no special meaning and not named after anyone famous or from a famous song. i am just janie, plain old janie. plain stupid fuckin boring janie.
everyday i keep wishing i work at a gas station so i could be held up at gunpoint by a robber and then get shot in the chest, survive the shooting, and have all of it recorded on CCTV, then i'd become famous and have my fifteen minutes of fame and have my face plastered all over news websites and go viral on fark, buzzfeed, youtube, and reddit, and then i'd finally be acknowledged and feel like a real human being.
i want to be shot.
i want to taste the pain. i want to feel a bullet grazing by and almost ripping my flesh open. i want to feel pure terror and agony. i want to scream for help and sob for my life. i want to feel scared and hold onto life for a few minutes while on the verge of death, so then i'd finally feel alive. i want to get shot and be almost killed, so then i could beg for my life back and be grateful for a few minutes of oxygen in my lungs before dying.
i want to be alive.
i want to feel the passion for life. i want to feel the joy of being alive. but i feel nothing. i am boring. bland. normal. i am uninteresting. i ain’t dumb but i am unintellectual. i ain’t vain enough for materialistic yuppies who can talk about designer brands or expensive cars to talk about, while i have nothing to talk about. i ain’t smart enough for academics who discuss so many books or topics that i ain’t heard of. i have no stories to tell, because i have never lived a life. i stayed in the square and never stepped out. i never smashed the glass ceiling or climbed out of the fishbowl.
inside i am dead.
my heart is beating and the blood flows through my veins, but i am a dead woman walking on earth. i have no soul, i have no life. i am tired and angry and frustrated and empty. my soul is crushed and ravaged. my sexual juices are gone and my pussy is dried up. i feel too miserable to masturbate and now i couldn't even bear to look at porn anymore cos then i'd feel ugly and depressed, thinking about those porn stars who are at least beautiful and desirable and they have lots of admirers. me, i am nothing. hell, i couldn't even push myself to be a $1 whore meeting a dude in real life off the internet. i don’t have the energy to seduce a dude. i don’t care about looking sexy and i sure as fuck don’t have the motivation to go shopping for new lingerie. i stopped brushing my hair and no longer wear make-up.
my purpose in life? nothing.
come on. no one gives a fuck about me. i am alive, but i feel dead. i have healthy lungs and a beating heart, but i feel sick. i have two parents who love me, but i am alone. no man loves me or wants to touch me. my job fucking sucks, i’ve been trapped in this shitty job in this hellhole for too many years. i have nothing to aspire to. i have no big dreams. i have nothing to be passionate about. i wish i could become a rock star or movie star or olympian champion or world renowned neurosurgeon, but i am just a lousy low level worker with no talents. i am just a worker bee getting by in life, trying to survive.
beat me, abuse me, stalk me, threaten me
so then i'd finally feel useful.
i wish i have an abusive boyfriend so that i won’t be alone. At least with a violent, controlling boyfriend, he'd want me and need me and focus all his rage on me. janie, janie. come here, you stupid bitch. where’s my food? i’ll fucking beat you if you don’t make me a burger. i would actually feel like a real human being because then somebody else would acknowledge my existence - that boyfriend who would scream at me and beat me and then beg me for forgiveness and kiss me and love me and shower me with flowers and gifts. but no one cares enough about me to beat me and abuse me. my parents care about me, yes, but i am their daughter and they are old and they are gonna die soon anyway and they have each other and they don’t need me. no one needs me or wants me. i feel alone and ignored and unwanted and useless.
i could have taken a gun to blow my brains out, but i don’t have the guts to do it.
my hand would shake too much holding the gun to my head. i'd rather somebody else take out their violent animalistic urges onto me. anyway i don’t want to be dead. i want to feel alive. if i shot myself dead, i wouldn't have the chance to feel alive. i want somebody to almost kill me, then i'd finally experience pure terror in my heart and suddenly feel alive.
kill me shoot me now!
everyday, i keep hoping somebody would come up to me and pull out a knife at me and threaten to kill me if i don’t hand my purse over, and then attack me even after i hand my purse over and then leave me in a puddle of blood and i'd be taken to the E.R and be operated on, touched by humans, examined by humans, and have humans breathing down on my face and then i'd finally feel alive, then the police would come over to interview me and then it would be on the news and i'd become famous and my face and name would be all over the news. people would know who i am and my existence would be validated. my name, my face, it would be out there on the internet. janie, janie, did you hear about janie? she was shot and almost killed and then she was taken to the ER. oh that poor Janie! don’t worry, she’s okay now. oh, thank god. janie. my name, my face is forever out there on the internet, with lots and lots of articles about my suffering through the violent ordeal and bravely fighting for my life on that deathbed in the E.R. out there in cyberspace. forever, and forever, never to be erased. thanks to google cached.
but it hasn't happened yet.
my name is janie.
fuck my life.
