End Me.

That's it! Kill me now!

Seriously, go on and shoot me; I wouldn't mind, if I could I'd even thank you. The embarrassment that is my life has now sunken in such an abyss that it will never resurface again, and because I do not want to be miserable until the end of my days, I request that you kill me now. Without physically harming other people.

So do it, pull the trigger, throw me off a cliff, strangle me, drown me, poison me, run me over, set me on fire or cut me in little pieces and feed me to a pack of dogs. I do not care; I just want it to be final and with no turning back, so don't pull a coma on me.

The thing that calls for such drastic measures? Well, the whole story would be a pain to tell, so to make it short: my parents are teenagers. Help!

They've set up two of their friends and are giving advice over the phone. I feel like I landed in a 'When Harry Met Sally' parody, way, way less funny than the original. No, seriously? Adults giving other adults advice on dating each other, advice that might just as well come out of a teenage mouth might I add.

My mum's hysterical snarky laugh rings through the house and hurts my ears. There is a hormonal problem in my home. How could one otherwise explain the fact that my dear parents wound up with me and my brother's teenage hormones and we inherited their mid-life crises?

Guh. There she goes again, giggling like she's some kind of hen, while my father just sits by smirking. This is so ridiculous. And the whole enterprise is bound to fail, because I've never seen two more unmatchable characters than the two they're trying to set up. The fact they haven't seen it won't work out is because they're both terribly polite. I know two persons who are going to have to go through a very painful dinner date, because they have virtually nothing to tell each other, except maybe their opinion on the weather.



But of course this isn't the only reason for the plotting of my demise.

The other reason is that I have come to the conclusion I absolutely suck. At everything except eating and perhaps sleeping. I'm not even sure about that last one; that's saying something. I have a sucky taste in music, I'm a sucker for colour coordination and I suck at social contact. I suck at driving, drawing, studying, love, playing music, interestingness, jokes, friends, maths, Latin, sports, diets, fashion, hair, physique, cleaning, respecting deadlines, not losing things, enthusiasm.

I suck at Life, The Universe, and Everything. (The ones who get this reference, give me your address, I'll write you a postcard, even if you happen to live in Antarctica.)

In the light of these facts, I've made the perfectly logical conclusion that I'm here using precious resources such as air, water and space and producing copious amounts of waste, of organic and non-organic kind, and therefore am a danger to humanity. So go on, kill me now. Did you know that not having kids is actually the greenest gesture you can do for the planet? If it's too late, you got two or three other options.

1. Kill the dog (if you happen to have one)
2. Turn vegetarian.
3. Kill the kid. He/She'll turn out to be a stupid brat teenager anyway, most probably another danger to humanity. And if you're lucky, perhaps it'll be thankful. There's always a chance that the kid is me.