I am kind of sick of technology. Sure, it's great that I can text my brother anytime I want, and it's nice to be able to call my mom while I am driving around, hands free in my car, but I constantly don't feel like I am busy enough. I want to watch TV and browse the internet. Text message on my phone while cooking in the kitchen. I'm just always multi-technology-ing. It's just overwhelming, and I'm over the feeling of it. I want to unplug. But I've already unplugged socially.
I'm only writing this as I'm watching TV, shopping for stamps, checking Facebook, which I also hate, putting things away, petting my snuggle kitties, texting Steve, writing letters, relaxing in my jams.
It's so funny how we all think that people care what we have to say, but honestly people don't really care at all. If I did, wouldn't I be a more avid blog reader?
I'm on week 2 starting tomorrow of my medicine change, and it's going much better. I'm not tired all the time. I'm not sleeping all the time. My weird freaky dreams are becoming less and less in nature. I have had a couple of good positive days back to back, and I'm feeling more optimistic. At least there is that.
It's strange, I don't really feel the need to post on here all that often, but I also don't have the need to journal much either, although I think I would probably get more out that what goes on here. I used to really enjoy all of that. But I am crazy about my letter writing.
Dear people of the world who stumble across my blog, let's become correspondence friends.
Love You, Mean It,
Courtney
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Still?
Someone asked me how I was today. I hadn't seen them in a while, and quite frankly, I feel terrible lately. I am physically exhausted, mentally bored but overwhelmed and continuously sad. When I gave my usual answer that is the one that makes people the least uncomfortable (the slight stink face combined with the half lopsided shrug) he responded with a look of astonishment and the question, "Still?"
I was offended, defeated and completely deflated in that one syllable nightmare of a word. Could the undertones have said more to me in that moment? You can't just turn off that feeling with antidepressants or drugs and be happy again? You aren't immediately fulfilled even though I'm telling you how busy and great it is going at work without you? You still feel sad?
I want to be happy again. I want to laugh and have girl friends and go on adventures and outings and dates and take pictures and have fun memories again. I miss that. There are moments that happen that are good here in Illinois, but not enough to make the sad go away. Not enough to turn the hurt off.
How can I still be sad? Because I can't stop picturing the beeps and blips on Dad's monitor moments before he had a heart attack and Casey and I had to make a decision to have the hospital staff revive him. But his body was still lifeless and unresponsive. His small arm with its thick layer of stiff curly hairs fell off the bed lifelessly. I sobbed uncontrollably. Mom was gone. When she came back and the family came in, and the decision had been made to take the breathing tube...the life support out, we stood and waited not knowing how long it would take. We watched him take smaller and shallower breaths and with each one I wondered if this is the moment? Oh thank god, another one! Is this the one? I spent so much time wondering, I don't remember it. Mom never looked at me. She didn't touch me or hug me or say anything. It was like I didn't exist.
When we took her home, I undressed her as is she was a child and put her in bed and wandered around downstairs in my brothers house. This is it? It's over now? I don't feel anything anymore. I just felt numb. Maybe I still am numb? I still am?
...
I think that writing these things will make me feel better and have some kind of catharsis to the many changes that have happened. The things that have stolen my little dreams, the standard things that every girl should have. I should have just stayed in school in the first place so he could have seen me. I don't know how he could have fulfilled my other little dream or how I could have made different choices that would have even made it possible. I guess that's on me. It's guilt that sits on my shoulders that I regret.
I just want to be happy again.
I hope changes are on the horizon.
I was offended, defeated and completely deflated in that one syllable nightmare of a word. Could the undertones have said more to me in that moment? You can't just turn off that feeling with antidepressants or drugs and be happy again? You aren't immediately fulfilled even though I'm telling you how busy and great it is going at work without you? You still feel sad?
I want to be happy again. I want to laugh and have girl friends and go on adventures and outings and dates and take pictures and have fun memories again. I miss that. There are moments that happen that are good here in Illinois, but not enough to make the sad go away. Not enough to turn the hurt off.
How can I still be sad? Because I can't stop picturing the beeps and blips on Dad's monitor moments before he had a heart attack and Casey and I had to make a decision to have the hospital staff revive him. But his body was still lifeless and unresponsive. His small arm with its thick layer of stiff curly hairs fell off the bed lifelessly. I sobbed uncontrollably. Mom was gone. When she came back and the family came in, and the decision had been made to take the breathing tube...the life support out, we stood and waited not knowing how long it would take. We watched him take smaller and shallower breaths and with each one I wondered if this is the moment? Oh thank god, another one! Is this the one? I spent so much time wondering, I don't remember it. Mom never looked at me. She didn't touch me or hug me or say anything. It was like I didn't exist.
When we took her home, I undressed her as is she was a child and put her in bed and wandered around downstairs in my brothers house. This is it? It's over now? I don't feel anything anymore. I just felt numb. Maybe I still am numb? I still am?
...
I think that writing these things will make me feel better and have some kind of catharsis to the many changes that have happened. The things that have stolen my little dreams, the standard things that every girl should have. I should have just stayed in school in the first place so he could have seen me. I don't know how he could have fulfilled my other little dream or how I could have made different choices that would have even made it possible. I guess that's on me. It's guilt that sits on my shoulders that I regret.
I just want to be happy again.
I hope changes are on the horizon.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Late night posts are my thing
I am searching for jobs right now. Applying for some. Not excited about any of them. The idea of everything happening, and happening so quickly really freaks me out. I also need to turn in an official notice to the office that I will not be renewing my lease. Not under any circumstances. Well maybe if they like decreased my rent $200 a month, that would do it. Ha.
I feel like crying, but I can't because my medicines keep me from being able to. I didn't think that would happen again, because it didn't for a very long time. If I get really really upset, I can, but just a normal, need to get it out cry: impossible.
My whole body aches.
I can't believe at 27 that my knees and joints ache when it's cold outside.
I want more, but I don't see it every being possible.
I feel like crying, but I can't because my medicines keep me from being able to. I didn't think that would happen again, because it didn't for a very long time. If I get really really upset, I can, but just a normal, need to get it out cry: impossible.
My whole body aches.
I can't believe at 27 that my knees and joints ache when it's cold outside.
I want more, but I don't see it every being possible.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
The Truth
The truth is that I am lost and scared. I do not know what I want, and even worse, I don't know how to get what I want. The truth is that it is after 2am, I have no real job, and still worse, no motivation because like all the relationships in my life, I am scared to try anything because I don't want to be hurt again. "No one likes working with you."
Even finally hearing the opposite from the supposed person who didn't like working with me hasn't reinstalled my confidence. What am I good at? What should I be doing? Not just as a career, but in my life? What goals am I working towards anymore? I have no clue. I'm not really working towards anything. It's a good day if I wake up and remember to brush my hair.
It's as if I feel all this pressure from the world in general to become a mother. That is not in my plans by any means. I am willing to make allowances for changes. After all, I said I would never eat meat again, and then look, six years later...mmmmm beef. (I know how to cook beef now! It's such a big deal.) Where are the other proud, single and non-maternal types? I know they are out there. Why can't they be my friend? And we can rejoice over how thankful we are to sleep in all day, to walk around naked, to not vacuum (shit, the day I move someplace with hardwood floors, I swear I will throw a block party!), to swear, to watch soft porn on TV after dinner, to never eat at the table, to eat dessert and junk food first before dinner...where is that person? Why are you hidden from me?
But then there is the guilt. I have the baby guilt. I want to think that I'm enlightened and empowered by wanting to work (I'm using the term loosely as I am not currently working). But is the opposite of that looking down upon those who choose to stay at home with their children? Still when I look at my peers, I don't feel that way about everyone. Certain people who give themselves up in order to be some ideal housewife they wished their mom had been or dreamt that they would be do come to mind. But other strong focused and educated women I know choose to stay at home. But then I wonder, how do their husbands not resent having to take care of not just themselves, not just a wife, but a whole brood on one salary alone? It almost isn't fair in reverse, because I am no where near a career that could support a family. Hell, I can barely support myself in this snooty forsaken money pit of snobs that is the North Shore. And for some reason I soo desperately love and want to stay in, but that is just nonsense. This place isn't really for me.
Am I on the fence? Am I truly going to be a childless or child free woman? Will a meetcute happen in my future, and I will want to ovulate a baby into reality just to change his diapers for two years, have him learn the best I can, and then they grow up to hate and resent me? Will I find someone who also doesn't want children and then some sort of biological clock with deafen me with the need to reproduce? Just for those unbeknownst to the lingo, childless = negative biological connotation, child free = positive choice driven connotation.
I read something the other day that has actually stuck with me. It was a quote about how we shouldn't compare our biography to another's highlight reel. That's true. I feel the truth in that. In a world fully connected constantly by social media and the demon that is Facebook, I only see the highlight reels of everyone else. Somehow I'm compelled to only highlight my shit storm days. To be fair, in the past 18 months, there have been a lot of shit storm days. Times and events that I feel like no one I formerly knew can relate to. Things that I know other people have been through, and I still feel like I can't connect with them. I think inside my head, "Shut up. I want it to be my turn to talk, and I want you to shut up. I want to keep talking and I want you to listen and nod at the right moments. Whisper that you understand and that it is hard." Is that asking too much? Apparently so because I can't get it.
I never ever mention my dad to my mom. I never bring him up. She only brings him up to measure how the time has passed "since before Jerry was sick" or "after Jerry was sick." And that's it. Casey used to talk about it with me, but I've just let it be still. What could there possibly be to say? I'm jealous and angry that you are older than me and had more actual time with him. I regret not being better at CAD and being in the family business, but it wasn't what I wanted to do. It would have made me miserable. I'm sorry they chose to only have the two of us so far apart in age, and I probably was a mistake in my mother's mind, but I don't doubt that my dad wanted me because I've heard that he wanted more children?
I avoid my mom and Indiana like the plague. When she dies, will I be this grieved? Will she get sick and slowly change the way Daddy did? It's morbid to think about it, but I do. Why lie? It's the truth, and isn't that what this whole thing is supposed to be about? I'm not self-medicating anymore. Which is a good thing I think. It's a lot easier to be clearer now. It's a lot easier to experience stuff. Even with the numbing of the prescription antidepressants that I hate to admit to help me. I hate that I am that person who can be fixed by drugs. But what is better? You may not be in support of big pharmaceutical companies. I'm not. Maybe that makes me a hypocrite. I'm trying to be okay with that. But which choice is better? Wanting to die and vanish from existence OR feeling slightly numb and unable to cry but able to feel, survive and exist?
It's a really shitty question.
Really though, what is even the point of crawling over this information again and again in my mind? It's like pure torture of not knowing what I want or what I should do. Shouldn't there be some kind of feeling of what direction I should be heading in? Was $43,000 of school debt really worth it to still be so confused? I don't think so. Can't someone else help out there?
I guess it's not a very good truth, but it is the truth that I am hung up on. People around me are having careers, having friends, having babies. I don't have any of that.
Staying up this late is bad for me. Usually around now at 3am I start to get a little dizzy. I'm not exactly sure what it is though. I guess it's a sign to get some sleep. But my defiant brain thinks that it doesn't matter because I don't work, and I can sleep in the day, and so I do. A lot. All the time. It's a sad existence right now, but usually I think at least I'm still existing. That has to count for something right? But how many days should pass before that really doesn't count for anything anymore?
The kitties bother me when they are hungry, and they bother me when they want me to come to bed. Trouvez (Insert accent down-up over e) is circling like a hawk. "Come to bed and snuggle with me lady!" I'm just positive that if his tiny meek little meows could be translated, that is what they would mean. So, to bed at 3am I go.
When I read a lot, I want to blog a lot. I want to be a better writer, but I'm not sure I am a very good writer in truth. I just let whatever is in my head spill out of my head. Maybe I will fix it and organize it later. That is how I made it through college. But maybe I won't, and it will just be this trivial nonsense I type out at night.
Even finally hearing the opposite from the supposed person who didn't like working with me hasn't reinstalled my confidence. What am I good at? What should I be doing? Not just as a career, but in my life? What goals am I working towards anymore? I have no clue. I'm not really working towards anything. It's a good day if I wake up and remember to brush my hair.
It's as if I feel all this pressure from the world in general to become a mother. That is not in my plans by any means. I am willing to make allowances for changes. After all, I said I would never eat meat again, and then look, six years later...mmmmm beef. (I know how to cook beef now! It's such a big deal.) Where are the other proud, single and non-maternal types? I know they are out there. Why can't they be my friend? And we can rejoice over how thankful we are to sleep in all day, to walk around naked, to not vacuum (shit, the day I move someplace with hardwood floors, I swear I will throw a block party!), to swear, to watch soft porn on TV after dinner, to never eat at the table, to eat dessert and junk food first before dinner...where is that person? Why are you hidden from me?
But then there is the guilt. I have the baby guilt. I want to think that I'm enlightened and empowered by wanting to work (I'm using the term loosely as I am not currently working). But is the opposite of that looking down upon those who choose to stay at home with their children? Still when I look at my peers, I don't feel that way about everyone. Certain people who give themselves up in order to be some ideal housewife they wished their mom had been or dreamt that they would be do come to mind. But other strong focused and educated women I know choose to stay at home. But then I wonder, how do their husbands not resent having to take care of not just themselves, not just a wife, but a whole brood on one salary alone? It almost isn't fair in reverse, because I am no where near a career that could support a family. Hell, I can barely support myself in this snooty forsaken money pit of snobs that is the North Shore. And for some reason I soo desperately love and want to stay in, but that is just nonsense. This place isn't really for me.
Am I on the fence? Am I truly going to be a childless or child free woman? Will a meetcute happen in my future, and I will want to ovulate a baby into reality just to change his diapers for two years, have him learn the best I can, and then they grow up to hate and resent me? Will I find someone who also doesn't want children and then some sort of biological clock with deafen me with the need to reproduce? Just for those unbeknownst to the lingo, childless = negative biological connotation, child free = positive choice driven connotation.
I read something the other day that has actually stuck with me. It was a quote about how we shouldn't compare our biography to another's highlight reel. That's true. I feel the truth in that. In a world fully connected constantly by social media and the demon that is Facebook, I only see the highlight reels of everyone else. Somehow I'm compelled to only highlight my shit storm days. To be fair, in the past 18 months, there have been a lot of shit storm days. Times and events that I feel like no one I formerly knew can relate to. Things that I know other people have been through, and I still feel like I can't connect with them. I think inside my head, "Shut up. I want it to be my turn to talk, and I want you to shut up. I want to keep talking and I want you to listen and nod at the right moments. Whisper that you understand and that it is hard." Is that asking too much? Apparently so because I can't get it.
I never ever mention my dad to my mom. I never bring him up. She only brings him up to measure how the time has passed "since before Jerry was sick" or "after Jerry was sick." And that's it. Casey used to talk about it with me, but I've just let it be still. What could there possibly be to say? I'm jealous and angry that you are older than me and had more actual time with him. I regret not being better at CAD and being in the family business, but it wasn't what I wanted to do. It would have made me miserable. I'm sorry they chose to only have the two of us so far apart in age, and I probably was a mistake in my mother's mind, but I don't doubt that my dad wanted me because I've heard that he wanted more children?
I avoid my mom and Indiana like the plague. When she dies, will I be this grieved? Will she get sick and slowly change the way Daddy did? It's morbid to think about it, but I do. Why lie? It's the truth, and isn't that what this whole thing is supposed to be about? I'm not self-medicating anymore. Which is a good thing I think. It's a lot easier to be clearer now. It's a lot easier to experience stuff. Even with the numbing of the prescription antidepressants that I hate to admit to help me. I hate that I am that person who can be fixed by drugs. But what is better? You may not be in support of big pharmaceutical companies. I'm not. Maybe that makes me a hypocrite. I'm trying to be okay with that. But which choice is better? Wanting to die and vanish from existence OR feeling slightly numb and unable to cry but able to feel, survive and exist?
It's a really shitty question.
Really though, what is even the point of crawling over this information again and again in my mind? It's like pure torture of not knowing what I want or what I should do. Shouldn't there be some kind of feeling of what direction I should be heading in? Was $43,000 of school debt really worth it to still be so confused? I don't think so. Can't someone else help out there?
I guess it's not a very good truth, but it is the truth that I am hung up on. People around me are having careers, having friends, having babies. I don't have any of that.
Staying up this late is bad for me. Usually around now at 3am I start to get a little dizzy. I'm not exactly sure what it is though. I guess it's a sign to get some sleep. But my defiant brain thinks that it doesn't matter because I don't work, and I can sleep in the day, and so I do. A lot. All the time. It's a sad existence right now, but usually I think at least I'm still existing. That has to count for something right? But how many days should pass before that really doesn't count for anything anymore?
The kitties bother me when they are hungry, and they bother me when they want me to come to bed. Trouvez (Insert accent down-up over e) is circling like a hawk. "Come to bed and snuggle with me lady!" I'm just positive that if his tiny meek little meows could be translated, that is what they would mean. So, to bed at 3am I go.
When I read a lot, I want to blog a lot. I want to be a better writer, but I'm not sure I am a very good writer in truth. I just let whatever is in my head spill out of my head. Maybe I will fix it and organize it later. That is how I made it through college. But maybe I won't, and it will just be this trivial nonsense I type out at night.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Random thoughts that will make you uncomfortable about knowing me.
Not to participate in traditions, because traditions are for dickheads, but I am thankful I don't have babies or kids. Shit, just looking at them gives me headaches. Their constant want and need of things. The way my already shitty life couldn't be complete without them. Oh blow me. But yet I torture myself with thinking about it constantly, even though I could care less, and would be much happier in a world without kids.
Everything since I have moved up here has been shit. Which is strange really. I cared a great deal about Miggy while we were dating, but in hindsight, I don't believe that he ever really cared about me. It's actually quite strange to even think about it because he never gets excited over anything. The only positive thing that seemed to come of that, was me adopting his family. Which is again, pretty fucked up and weird. It would weird me out if one of my ex boyfriends came over to my families houses and hung out with them and talked with them without me. But then again, all my ex boyfriends have been dickheads, so what do I know?
I used to be adventurous, and whatever it was that changed in 2008 and 2009: friendships falling apart, quitting one job for school that fell through, being unemployed, randomly moving here without really thinking about it and just doing it, and Lindsay dying; all those things put together with pointing out the spot on dad's face for the first time, the look on his face when he told us that it wasn't going away and that there were only months left no matter what we did, the secrets they kept, I don't know... but the adventurer in me seems to have died. There's no room for adventure of fun anymore. I don't think that there ever will be again. The anxiety in the past four years has only grown to a point, where it is uncomfortable to grocery shop sometimes. I can't be around strangers, I can't make friends, I can't keep friends. I have given up what few small dreams I still held onto, because they seem pointless now.
I'm so sick of people telling me that my dad wouldn't want me to be sad like this. Guess what people? My dad didn't want to die period. I'm sorry but both ideas just cannot coexist together. I just can't figure out how to cope and move on. Everything in my life has fallen apart. I have one good hour a day Monday through Friday when I borrow a dog. How sad is that? The rest of my time is spent alone by myself. At least that way I don't spend what little money is left, and I can keep being unemployed. Yay for no direction. Yay for no social life. Yay for people showing some god damn fucking empathy for something that they can't understand or even imagine.
Ultimately, it doesn't even matter. I'm alone all the time. I come home and stay alone some more. I don't talk to anyone. I don't even want to talk to anyone anyways. No one calls. I don't call anymore. No parents, no brother. No family. No friends. Barely any acquaintances.
The whole bottle of Tylenol might kill my liver, but it just isn't enough to put me out. I admit, I like the idea of what the people at work would say and think. I'm pretty sure there would be some guilty hands in there. I like the idea of what the people who didn't believe me when I said I would do it would think. "Oh, I should have spoken up." Too late now. There are some people I would be sad for. But I try not to think about them. They obviously aren't thinking about me.
I'm also thinking about shaving my head after his one year anniversary. I want to donate or sell it all. I figure that if things don't slightly improve after a year, especially a year where they have only become worse as time has gone on, then it will be time to reconsider the Tylenol act, or whatever the fuck it is that we are calling it. It's only like two weeks away too.
Which is strange as well. I remember a lot of last year. I remember super vivid moments and other events I can't recall at all. Maybe that's good?
The less I talk to people, the more I wonder how long it would take them to find me. Beth would probably notice first. I hate to put that burden on her.
Everything since I have moved up here has been shit. Which is strange really. I cared a great deal about Miggy while we were dating, but in hindsight, I don't believe that he ever really cared about me. It's actually quite strange to even think about it because he never gets excited over anything. The only positive thing that seemed to come of that, was me adopting his family. Which is again, pretty fucked up and weird. It would weird me out if one of my ex boyfriends came over to my families houses and hung out with them and talked with them without me. But then again, all my ex boyfriends have been dickheads, so what do I know?
I used to be adventurous, and whatever it was that changed in 2008 and 2009: friendships falling apart, quitting one job for school that fell through, being unemployed, randomly moving here without really thinking about it and just doing it, and Lindsay dying; all those things put together with pointing out the spot on dad's face for the first time, the look on his face when he told us that it wasn't going away and that there were only months left no matter what we did, the secrets they kept, I don't know... but the adventurer in me seems to have died. There's no room for adventure of fun anymore. I don't think that there ever will be again. The anxiety in the past four years has only grown to a point, where it is uncomfortable to grocery shop sometimes. I can't be around strangers, I can't make friends, I can't keep friends. I have given up what few small dreams I still held onto, because they seem pointless now.
I'm so sick of people telling me that my dad wouldn't want me to be sad like this. Guess what people? My dad didn't want to die period. I'm sorry but both ideas just cannot coexist together. I just can't figure out how to cope and move on. Everything in my life has fallen apart. I have one good hour a day Monday through Friday when I borrow a dog. How sad is that? The rest of my time is spent alone by myself. At least that way I don't spend what little money is left, and I can keep being unemployed. Yay for no direction. Yay for no social life. Yay for people showing some god damn fucking empathy for something that they can't understand or even imagine.
Ultimately, it doesn't even matter. I'm alone all the time. I come home and stay alone some more. I don't talk to anyone. I don't even want to talk to anyone anyways. No one calls. I don't call anymore. No parents, no brother. No family. No friends. Barely any acquaintances.
The whole bottle of Tylenol might kill my liver, but it just isn't enough to put me out. I admit, I like the idea of what the people at work would say and think. I'm pretty sure there would be some guilty hands in there. I like the idea of what the people who didn't believe me when I said I would do it would think. "Oh, I should have spoken up." Too late now. There are some people I would be sad for. But I try not to think about them. They obviously aren't thinking about me.
I'm also thinking about shaving my head after his one year anniversary. I want to donate or sell it all. I figure that if things don't slightly improve after a year, especially a year where they have only become worse as time has gone on, then it will be time to reconsider the Tylenol act, or whatever the fuck it is that we are calling it. It's only like two weeks away too.
Which is strange as well. I remember a lot of last year. I remember super vivid moments and other events I can't recall at all. Maybe that's good?
The less I talk to people, the more I wonder how long it would take them to find me. Beth would probably notice first. I hate to put that burden on her.
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Sunday, October 14, 2012
driving away
I miss my dad so much. Everything hurts and everything feels broken. It just feels like I can call him anytime I want like I used to, and he will answer. I call and wait for his voice, but it will never pick up again. How am I supposed to do anything. How am I not supposed to hurt when he wasn't at my graduation, and he didn't see me walk across the stage, and he wasn't here for my birthday?
I don't believe in anything. I don't feel him out there. There's no such thing as him watching over me or protecting me. I don't believe that. And if anyone tries to tell me that I'm wrong, and I just need to believe a little harder, they are fucking blind. I believed really hard and that didn't save him or myself.
I am broken and falling in on myself. I am lost.
He will never walk me down the aisle (although I have tossed that dream because none of my dreams come true). That one really hurts. I just want my dad. It's not fair. It's not fair that I watched him disappear. It's not fair that I am still alone after all this time. It's not fucking fair. I'm pissed. I'm sad. I'm angry. I'm resentful. I'm hateful. Aren't those all just really the same things anyways?
I watch shitty tv to distract me and I spend time by myself because people don't know what to do with me. They don't know what to say to me or how to "handle" me. Fuck you. Yes, because doing nothing is obviously better than trying anything; fucking idiots.
Happiness isn't a choice that I am capable of. It isn't possible right now. Anyone who says it is, is blind and stupid.
I eat and sleep and pretend that none of this exists. If she did it, I wouldn't be angry anymore. I don't want to be here either. This place is too painful. The bad times are supposed to make me more appreciative of the good times? There are no more good times. Those times are over.
This is fucking bullshit. I know I can't just sit and not do anything now. I have to keep moving. But I don't know where my next move is. I hate everything about myself and what I am doing right now. But there is nothing else available to go towards.
This past year has been agonizing and I really hate the fall. I hate everyone and everything right now. This is fucking bullshit.
I don't believe in anything. I don't feel him out there. There's no such thing as him watching over me or protecting me. I don't believe that. And if anyone tries to tell me that I'm wrong, and I just need to believe a little harder, they are fucking blind. I believed really hard and that didn't save him or myself.
I am broken and falling in on myself. I am lost.
He will never walk me down the aisle (although I have tossed that dream because none of my dreams come true). That one really hurts. I just want my dad. It's not fair. It's not fair that I watched him disappear. It's not fair that I am still alone after all this time. It's not fucking fair. I'm pissed. I'm sad. I'm angry. I'm resentful. I'm hateful. Aren't those all just really the same things anyways?
I watch shitty tv to distract me and I spend time by myself because people don't know what to do with me. They don't know what to say to me or how to "handle" me. Fuck you. Yes, because doing nothing is obviously better than trying anything; fucking idiots.
Happiness isn't a choice that I am capable of. It isn't possible right now. Anyone who says it is, is blind and stupid.
I eat and sleep and pretend that none of this exists. If she did it, I wouldn't be angry anymore. I don't want to be here either. This place is too painful. The bad times are supposed to make me more appreciative of the good times? There are no more good times. Those times are over.
This is fucking bullshit. I know I can't just sit and not do anything now. I have to keep moving. But I don't know where my next move is. I hate everything about myself and what I am doing right now. But there is nothing else available to go towards.
This past year has been agonizing and I really hate the fall. I hate everyone and everything right now. This is fucking bullshit.
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