"you can't fight the tears that ain't comin'"
A lot of times, when I am upset, I feel like I force myself to feel that way. Maybe I do it because I get sympathy. But that surely can't be it, because when I'm feeling sorry for myself and down in the dumps, I can't really bring myself to call someone who cares. (I can't think of anyone who cares at all when I feel like that). But I do still feel as if I cause my own pain. I feel responsible for all of the things that have happened to me, because deep down somewhere in my personality, thank fucking god, there is a part of me that wills me to rephrase sentences such as "that happened to me" and say "I did that." It really makes life that much simpler, doesn't it? If I caused all of the problems that are hooked like little barbs into the side of my sometimes uncomfortable life, then I could ignore them a bit-- some say taking responsibility is the first step. (The first step to what? Solving these problems? Jesus Christ, it sure as hell doesn't work.) So where am I going with all of this? Oh yeah.
Blaming everything on myself and apoligizing to all of the assholes in my life for fucking up a half second of their day is totally and completely unacceptable.
Blaming my misery on my lack of self control is a joke as well... I spend most of my life trying to reign myself in, and I'm sick and tired of lieing to myself and beating myself over the head with the idea that maybe, some day, someone will get it and come rescue me.
I'm not stranded, I'm not lonely, I'm not even wasting my life. I'm just living, and anyone who has a fucking problem with that can kiss my ass. Because God knows I don't have fucking time for them.
I just left my bamboo plant (which is one of those plants that has to have sitting water in it at all times, meaning the cats want to constantly drink the water...) on the coffee table, right near the cats even though I knew they would sooner or later knock it over. Ten minutes later, they did knock it over, getting water and little rocks all over the table. I was so goddamn angry that I screamed at the cats. But I cleaned it up.
I'm going to fucking continue to clean myself up too.... and not stick myself or my belongings in vulnerable unsafe places. Not worth it. Not worth it at all.
Blaming everything on myself and apoligizing to all of the assholes in my life for fucking up a half second of their day is totally and completely unacceptable.
Blaming my misery on my lack of self control is a joke as well... I spend most of my life trying to reign myself in, and I'm sick and tired of lieing to myself and beating myself over the head with the idea that maybe, some day, someone will get it and come rescue me.
I'm not stranded, I'm not lonely, I'm not even wasting my life. I'm just living, and anyone who has a fucking problem with that can kiss my ass. Because God knows I don't have fucking time for them.
I just left my bamboo plant (which is one of those plants that has to have sitting water in it at all times, meaning the cats want to constantly drink the water...) on the coffee table, right near the cats even though I knew they would sooner or later knock it over. Ten minutes later, they did knock it over, getting water and little rocks all over the table. I was so goddamn angry that I screamed at the cats. But I cleaned it up.
I'm going to fucking continue to clean myself up too.... and not stick myself or my belongings in vulnerable unsafe places. Not worth it. Not worth it at all.