When will the world realize that I don't care?

It's almost five a.m. and no one I know is online. My house is silent except for the hum of the heater pumping out life and making the streamers on the ceiling fan dance with each other making a crunching sound each time they brush against one another. I turn iTunes on (the misery mix because it best suits my mood), but it's quiet so my roommates can sleep. In fact, I can hear the hum of the house around my music. My half-completed applications sit on the table taunting me. They say "Who the fuck are you to desire employment? Nobody wants you," and I know this is true. Perhaps the misery mix wasn't such a good idea.

Television bores me. It's no longer the constant companion and friend who completes me. I find that every program dissatisfies me before I can make it to the commercial break. Sometimes the adds are interesting though because they offer more promise.

I want a beer so I can cry in it. But I don't really want a beer, and I certainly don't want to cry. It's funny that when I want to rage against the world, the best that comes out is pitiful whining. When will the world realize that I don't care? Just tell me who I am so I'll know forever and never ever change.