Ouch...
Trying to put on ice pack on my face as I frantically clean the carpet, trying to prevent swelling so I don;t have to make up some story tomorrow. Slammed a door in my face several times until I collapsed on the floor, and now I'm bleeding profusely above my left eye and starting to feel numb, which probably means swelling that will turn black and blue tomorrow. Some bitch taunted me on chat, taking pleasure in how much I hate myself, even though the ignorant cooze couldn't even spell the word "whiner" correctly.
Why do I do it? Why do I give people a chance when they prove time and time again to be cruel and sadistic? Probably because I'm an ugly pig and figure I deserve such mockery. But the hastily assembled bag of ice is so cold and painful against my face that I can only stand it for a few seconds. I managed to keep the blood of the sheets and I am satisfied with my job on the floor, even as I hit myself to induce the bleeding all over, to make my face a grotesque, bloated, swollen monstrosity. "I fell down", I rehearse to the people at my new job, figuring I can get away with it just this once. Remember how I lied two jobs ago when I purposely opened a cabinet door in my face until my lips were so swollen as to affect my speech...
Self-control stops me from slamming my glass into the empty plate on my bedspread, shattering it. I already did a quickie touchup job on the paint on one of the walls here after throwing a glass into it in a rage. Picked the shards up by hand, including those embedded in the wall, and luckily found touch-up paint in my cousin's laundry room. My hands smell slightly coppery from the blood as the Hollies sing "The Letter", a song popular ten years before I was even born.
I realize I'm a fool for trying to seek comfort in others. Human beings are, by nature, jackals, enthusiastic in the face of others' weaknesses. Ice runs down my face like tears....I'm just hoping I'm not black and blue tomorrow.
The bleeding has stopped, and although the ice bag hurts horribly, I think that I'll be normal in the morning. Best to hide it from work...it's not like they're going to show any concern...I'll just be some weirdo freak who put on a good act at the interview. I heard some poor timid guy do a quickie interview today and he fared even worse than I did....hearing him trying to pretend he was aggressive almost made me feel better about my own interview.
Angry again, at myself and others. I'd kill myself if I had the guts, but I know I don't, and I find myself thinking about how it'd probably drive my parents off the deep end, and they're already there already. In a way, driving them to join me isn't that bad, at least for my dad. He was telling me last night that he had a "guest for the weekend", which means some new girlfriend. I guess I should feel bad that my dad has a gf when I don't, but I'm more apprehensive about meeting this potential buttplug and think about what a mockery my family life has become. No wonder I smashed the picture my mom gave me years ago, in a frame with the legend "FAMILY" in it, and tore the picture in tiny pieces and flushed them down the toilet. It was fitting, since my family is a sham. A few disconnected losers....if I ever become something, I should disown them. My mom the alcoholic embezzler, my dad the loser spendthrift, my brother the do-nothing....I don't even want to be a part of them any more. My family name is worth nothing, and sometimes I almost want to change my name to "start fresh". Not like I can take any pride from their failed and useless lives. It just makes me worry that being a loser is in my genes, and it makes me sick to think of witnessing the sad remains of my parents' last 10 or 20 years on this planet.
At least the swelling is going down and I hope I won't be bruised tomorrow. Lying to work is one tihng, but I'm going back to Kalamazoo this weekend. I know I'll be sick meeting my dad's undoubtedly buttplug girlfriend and feeling depressed at what my dad has been reduced to, even if he deserves it. I love him enough to care about him, but hate him enough to figure he gets what he deserves.
Why do I do it? Why do I give people a chance when they prove time and time again to be cruel and sadistic? Probably because I'm an ugly pig and figure I deserve such mockery. But the hastily assembled bag of ice is so cold and painful against my face that I can only stand it for a few seconds. I managed to keep the blood of the sheets and I am satisfied with my job on the floor, even as I hit myself to induce the bleeding all over, to make my face a grotesque, bloated, swollen monstrosity. "I fell down", I rehearse to the people at my new job, figuring I can get away with it just this once. Remember how I lied two jobs ago when I purposely opened a cabinet door in my face until my lips were so swollen as to affect my speech...
Self-control stops me from slamming my glass into the empty plate on my bedspread, shattering it. I already did a quickie touchup job on the paint on one of the walls here after throwing a glass into it in a rage. Picked the shards up by hand, including those embedded in the wall, and luckily found touch-up paint in my cousin's laundry room. My hands smell slightly coppery from the blood as the Hollies sing "The Letter", a song popular ten years before I was even born.
I realize I'm a fool for trying to seek comfort in others. Human beings are, by nature, jackals, enthusiastic in the face of others' weaknesses. Ice runs down my face like tears....I'm just hoping I'm not black and blue tomorrow.
The bleeding has stopped, and although the ice bag hurts horribly, I think that I'll be normal in the morning. Best to hide it from work...it's not like they're going to show any concern...I'll just be some weirdo freak who put on a good act at the interview. I heard some poor timid guy do a quickie interview today and he fared even worse than I did....hearing him trying to pretend he was aggressive almost made me feel better about my own interview.
Angry again, at myself and others. I'd kill myself if I had the guts, but I know I don't, and I find myself thinking about how it'd probably drive my parents off the deep end, and they're already there already. In a way, driving them to join me isn't that bad, at least for my dad. He was telling me last night that he had a "guest for the weekend", which means some new girlfriend. I guess I should feel bad that my dad has a gf when I don't, but I'm more apprehensive about meeting this potential buttplug and think about what a mockery my family life has become. No wonder I smashed the picture my mom gave me years ago, in a frame with the legend "FAMILY" in it, and tore the picture in tiny pieces and flushed them down the toilet. It was fitting, since my family is a sham. A few disconnected losers....if I ever become something, I should disown them. My mom the alcoholic embezzler, my dad the loser spendthrift, my brother the do-nothing....I don't even want to be a part of them any more. My family name is worth nothing, and sometimes I almost want to change my name to "start fresh". Not like I can take any pride from their failed and useless lives. It just makes me worry that being a loser is in my genes, and it makes me sick to think of witnessing the sad remains of my parents' last 10 or 20 years on this planet.
At least the swelling is going down and I hope I won't be bruised tomorrow. Lying to work is one tihng, but I'm going back to Kalamazoo this weekend. I know I'll be sick meeting my dad's undoubtedly buttplug girlfriend and feeling depressed at what my dad has been reduced to, even if he deserves it. I love him enough to care about him, but hate him enough to figure he gets what he deserves.