irresponsible and working too much
I can’t fucking believe that I am working so much. I agreed to come in early today for Dean since he has to work at the Super 8 tonight. I came in two hours early. I am staying late in the morning too so that Giselle can take over Randy’s shift which is supposed to start at 7, but her kids can’t get dropped off at school earlier than 7:30. So, I get to stay here until 8:30. Tomorrow, I will be coming in at 10 and leaving at 7, but I return at 3 to work until 11 yet again. I already came in early this past Monday too. I don’t get paid extra for hours over 40. It’s not state law, so Dean doesn’t do it. I can’t blame him, but then again he’s the only one to blame. So, let’s figure out these hours for this check. 44.75 hours
I wish I had a rich husband, so that I could be sleeping right now. I am so sleepy. My eyes feel like bricks.
I can’t believe ho much it hurts to think about my Dad spending more time with De than me. It feels like if I had lived the life I had planned, that I would be as lucky as De is now regarding time spent with Dad. I wanted to golf with him this year, and he never came down. That was disappointing. More often than not my family disappoints me. Mom buys things that I don’t need, but when we were homeless, she did nothing. Christmas, she sent us a box of food, but we were homeless for a month and half already by then. I don’t want children and I am responsible enough to admit that. My mom on the other hand, did not have the decency to stop herself from having me. She wasn’t good at it, she didn’t like it, but she did it anyway. Irresponsible. I know I don’t want a child to look at me and express their feelings and expect me to care and help just because I gave birth to them. I never played house, I didn’t play with dolls and mom never cared about the reasons why I never took to those things. It feels like my parents, never wanted to be parents. Like I appeared out of nowhere on their doorstep and imposed on their lives.
I never had a shoulder to cry on. There was no one to talk to. They existed only as parental shells. When I was raped, oh sorry assaulted by the police terminology, my mom said, “Why didn’t you stop him?” Like there was some kind of choice when he was smashing my head into the sidewalk. She was even watching Unsolved Mysteries. It’s amazing what my mind remembers. I would NEVER say that to anybody, even if I hated them. Why didn’t you stop him? To this day, it runs through my head when I’m awake and sometimes in my dreams. I wonder if she even remembers. I had to tell her that I had to go to the police. She even tried to talk me out of it. She said, “If you file a report it will be in the paper and people will talk. They will say that I’m a bad parent. Is that what you want?” I don’t even have to make this shit up. It’s like it happened yesterday. And by the way, I could see my home when I was attacked. I wasn’t quiet, but no one noticed or if they did, they did nothing. I was wearing pants, a sweater and sneakers. I stopped walking to tie my shoe, then - wham! The rest is permanent history and that guy was never found and probably is a neighbor now. I wouldn’t recognize him I don’t think anyway. Gods help him if I do. Actually as I type that, I wonder I what, if anything at all, I would do. I just wish that my parents had done something. Anything at all really; reacted or fought back or at least believe me enough to try to find the guy and beat the ever loving piss out of him. That’s what I would do if I were the parents.
I wish I had a rich husband, so that I could be sleeping right now. I am so sleepy. My eyes feel like bricks.
I can’t believe ho much it hurts to think about my Dad spending more time with De than me. It feels like if I had lived the life I had planned, that I would be as lucky as De is now regarding time spent with Dad. I wanted to golf with him this year, and he never came down. That was disappointing. More often than not my family disappoints me. Mom buys things that I don’t need, but when we were homeless, she did nothing. Christmas, she sent us a box of food, but we were homeless for a month and half already by then. I don’t want children and I am responsible enough to admit that. My mom on the other hand, did not have the decency to stop herself from having me. She wasn’t good at it, she didn’t like it, but she did it anyway. Irresponsible. I know I don’t want a child to look at me and express their feelings and expect me to care and help just because I gave birth to them. I never played house, I didn’t play with dolls and mom never cared about the reasons why I never took to those things. It feels like my parents, never wanted to be parents. Like I appeared out of nowhere on their doorstep and imposed on their lives.
I never had a shoulder to cry on. There was no one to talk to. They existed only as parental shells. When I was raped, oh sorry assaulted by the police terminology, my mom said, “Why didn’t you stop him?” Like there was some kind of choice when he was smashing my head into the sidewalk. She was even watching Unsolved Mysteries. It’s amazing what my mind remembers. I would NEVER say that to anybody, even if I hated them. Why didn’t you stop him? To this day, it runs through my head when I’m awake and sometimes in my dreams. I wonder if she even remembers. I had to tell her that I had to go to the police. She even tried to talk me out of it. She said, “If you file a report it will be in the paper and people will talk. They will say that I’m a bad parent. Is that what you want?” I don’t even have to make this shit up. It’s like it happened yesterday. And by the way, I could see my home when I was attacked. I wasn’t quiet, but no one noticed or if they did, they did nothing. I was wearing pants, a sweater and sneakers. I stopped walking to tie my shoe, then - wham! The rest is permanent history and that guy was never found and probably is a neighbor now. I wouldn’t recognize him I don’t think anyway. Gods help him if I do. Actually as I type that, I wonder I what, if anything at all, I would do. I just wish that my parents had done something. Anything at all really; reacted or fought back or at least believe me enough to try to find the guy and beat the ever loving piss out of him. That’s what I would do if I were the parents.