I'm face down on the tracks, the train is coming fast and it's not derailing.
There comes a point where you're beyond wanting to scream, because no-one's listening anyhow. You want to burry yourself beneath your blankets, sob, and imagine that maybe the world is going to go away for a little while.
(It won't, but that's not the point. It's that faint hope that keeps you believing that you might make it through.)
Guess what kind of a day I had?
1. Family? You all know that I'm struggling right now. You know this. So why is it that you still seem to be labouring under the mistaken impression that I'm capable of dealing with your own issues as well as my own? I'm honoured that you all trust me with these things, but GODDAMMIT. I'm not a therapist. Never have been, never will be. Realize this, leave me alone, and let me deal with my own shit.
1.b. While I have your attention, I might as well also inform you that I am not twelve years old. Honest. So don't talk to me like I am one, or treat me that way. I'm an adult, even if you haven't noticed.
2. Boss? I'm already dealing with enough. When I'm explaining why I may seem a little bit 'off', I don't need you coming to the startling realization that I'm the one who can help you work through your passive-aggressive tendencies. I hate to break it to you, but I'm not.
3. School? I'd say that I hate you too, but I wouldn't mean it. You're a great escape from the real world for me right now, and I'm clinging to my classes like a flipping lifeline. You're still drowning me though, and I have no idea how I'm going to get these four papers written by the end of the month while still keeping up with my readings, my work, and my practicum.
4. Doctors? If you don't have anything to say to me outside of "Sorry, no clue what's wrong with you, have some painkillers and get the hell out", then bugger off. This does not apply to my GP, who seems to be the only one giving a damn about me right now.
5. Whoever didn't take that message from the specialist when they called me? Thanks. Because of this, I missed my appointment and am therefore likely going to have to wait a shitload of time to get another one. In the meantime, I'm still sick, still feeling like shit, and still have no clue about how to deal with any of the things that are wrong with me.
6. Body? Fuck you. No, seriously -- fuck you.
I need a drink. Unfortunately, since my liver is currently shot (here's a surprise -- NO-ONE KNOWS WHY), I can't.
Dammit.
This whole thing probably comes off as very melodramatic and self-centered, for which I apologize profusely. I'm sorry to drop all this shit here for you all to take, especially when I'm dealing with people doing the same thing to me, but this journal is currently the only place I've got that neither condescends, ignores, or tries to pass all of this off as being something just in my head. You need to know that having a space like this means something to me, however barmy it sounds.
Here's hoping the next entry I write will be a little more positive.