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There are people on the net that have nothing better to do with their time
then be nasty to other people online. They post rude comments, spend hours
a day talking about sites they hate so much, that they well, spend hours a
day talking about them. (lame) They mock the owners and posters for their
opinions and their right to free speech. They expect everyone to fit into
their narrow-minded little world view or else they throw a temper tantrum.
To these people I say grow up.
Here's a bit of info people...the web is
a HUGE place. If you don't like what I say here, or who I am, or what I
do, or talk about, or what I look like, or the color of my hair, or
whatever asinine thing you dwell on, go somewhere else. It's
really, really easy. Honest. You just click the little "x" in
the corner of your browser and *poof* the offending, big, mean and nasty
site has disappeared.
I pay for this site. It's mine. That
means I can use it for whatever the hell I want to. Don't like it if I'm
bitching about something in my life? Oh fucking well. Go somewhere else.
Think I'm stupid for expressing my thoughts? Too fucking bad, don't read
them. Somewhere along the line, someone forgot this simple fact: Live
and let live Don't like me, cool, fine, whatever, I don't care.
This journal is NOT for you. It's for me. I'm not in it for popularity or
fame or anything stupid like that. I write it because I need to write and
express myself and get things out of my head sometimes. So read or don't,
it doesn't matter, but don't waste my time (or yours) bitching about it.
*gets off soapbox*
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Tuesday, April 11, 2006
There's No Crying in Baseball
But is there crying in office work...? This morning, I got in and I couldn't help it. I sat in my office and just cried softly for about 15 minutes. Not full out sobbing but only through force of will. I couldn't stop and in fact, I wanted to cry harder. Thankfully no one came around or heard me and I did my best to sound remotely pleasant when the phone rang. I'm just terribly, terribly unhappy right now. In fact, I feel myself sliding into a Deep Blue Funk. I'm unhealthy. I'm physically ill and exhausted. I'm broke. I'm hopeless. And I'm pushing myself in the temp job significantly more hours then I was hoping for and what is it getting me? I'm still unhealthy. (Worse in fact.) I'm still physically ill and even more exhausted. I'm still broke. And I have less hope then ever. I feel worthless and pointless and like the Worlds' Bigest Failure. I can't work because I'm so chronically unwell and in pain. (Which is what prompted the crying this morning. 36 hours of my stomach not letting up a single inch. How can it possibly churn and bubble for that long without a single pause...?) But I can't even hope to ever see a doctor without working more then I can physically accomplish and pray I get insurance. This whole "trial" thing just serves to remind me how much of an absolute unreliable failure I am. I hold myself to standards of basic normalacy and I'm finding those standards are so high above me that I can't even fathom them, let alone live up to them. I honestly believe that my health is so poor I should really be on some kind of disability. But you can't even begin that process until you've spent years working with doctors and being a human pin cushion. Which I can't do for the very reason that I need the help in the first place. No one is offering me the job because no one will want to deal with the basic failures and root damage I come pre-packaged with. It'll be another case of pushing myself for nothing and having nothing but another failure to show for it. And people wonder why I don't even want to try for anything anymore. Why I don't even let myself ever hope. It just hurts too damned much. I'm tired of being so unhappy. I have no one to talk to. I have no one who even believes me. I think everyone in my life feels I'm pathetic and that they all are tired of hearing what to them is just words. They can't see what it feels like every hour of every day. And they can't feel what it is to be so broken and damaged on the inside. They see the false outter shell, never knowing it's all decay and rot a hair's width underneath. I don't even know why I bother with my journal anymore. No one wants to hear this stuff every day. I don't even want to talk about it anymore so I'm sure it's not anything worth reading. I just want to crawl in a dark hole somewhere and not come back out. I don't even want to bother finishing the week. What's the point? It's just enflaming my sickness, I'm miserable and exhausted and they're not going to hire me anyway. Like everything in my life, it's all for absolutely nothing. Pointless, meaningless suffering.
~ sweet smelling daffodils :: miss m ::
at 4/11/2006 03:04:00 PM ~
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