Self-pity can go to the dogs for all I care

Now that would make a great title for a song. A song written by a bunch of twenty-something year old men with adolescent hangovers performing for teenagers who protest their oppression, extol their depression, and resolutely fail to make an impression. (And that was far too tempting to let go. Pfft.)

So this song would involve lyrics like “I’m shrouded in the shadows of my making, my only company the demons of my past” and “You can’t see me, I’m just a ghost, you killed me so I’ll haunt you”.

Irony isn’t it?

Depressed guy kid teenager 1: “I don’t have any friends, my parents never understand me, so perhaps I’ll go back to that guy who offered me glue to sniff”
Depressed teenager 2: “I’m an emo boy; I can’t keep up my grades in school, I don’t have any “real” friends, I can’t see any point or focus in my life. Blah”
Depressed guy: “I’m 45, my wife and I barely speak because I get home from work at ten, my children are struggling in school and office politics is driving me nuts”

*-jx goes to ponder his point and the objective of his illustrations


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