Stalkers are funny.
Actually, they're kind of lame. It's not even like I feel they pose some kind of physical threat - it's more just that they constantly remind me of my place in our societal collective.
I'm a girl and I live alone and my parents are in another state. I can't afford to go to college right now. I work a retail job in a bad neighborhood and I live across the street from a Shell station where the hip-hop blares all night long. My boyfriend lives in another state and everyone feigns pity for me because of it, no matter how many times I tell them that they are obviously far more upset by it than I am. I am a person who doesn't want to be a person who complains, but I want to be heard.
I realize on some level that if I do not repeat this cycle over and over for the rest of my life, I will at least do it for a good many years. I can't say I know what will happen with myself and Greg in the future, but I can say that Greg is not the kind of person to rearrange his living situation any more than he has, no matter how much people he doesn't know try to thrust the idea on me as some sort of social necessity.
"Men are afraid of committment."
Yeah. Well. That's okay. I don't actually live alone anymore. I have a roommate now, but he's a massage therapy student with nipple rings who says really retarded, cheezy shit every time I see him. I sure as fuck feel safe with that guy across the house from me.
I want to live in an apartment surrounded by people I know in the surrounding apartments. It doesn't need to be nice. I want a Vespa and some driving goggles and a scarf. I want a better job. I want to go to college. I want to be worth what people are always trying to put into me.
Something something meaningless jargon something internet meme arbeit macht pie.
I'm a girl and I live alone and my parents are in another state. I can't afford to go to college right now. I work a retail job in a bad neighborhood and I live across the street from a Shell station where the hip-hop blares all night long. My boyfriend lives in another state and everyone feigns pity for me because of it, no matter how many times I tell them that they are obviously far more upset by it than I am. I am a person who doesn't want to be a person who complains, but I want to be heard.
I realize on some level that if I do not repeat this cycle over and over for the rest of my life, I will at least do it for a good many years. I can't say I know what will happen with myself and Greg in the future, but I can say that Greg is not the kind of person to rearrange his living situation any more than he has, no matter how much people he doesn't know try to thrust the idea on me as some sort of social necessity.
"Men are afraid of committment."
Yeah. Well. That's okay. I don't actually live alone anymore. I have a roommate now, but he's a massage therapy student with nipple rings who says really retarded, cheezy shit every time I see him. I sure as fuck feel safe with that guy across the house from me.
I want to live in an apartment surrounded by people I know in the surrounding apartments. It doesn't need to be nice. I want a Vespa and some driving goggles and a scarf. I want a better job. I want to go to college. I want to be worth what people are always trying to put into me.
Something something meaningless jargon something internet meme arbeit macht pie.