(no subject)

Jun 04, 2009 17:53

I'm slightly better today. Nothing a vicodin, good food and some sleep, can't... improve. Not fixed, but I'm better. I doubt I'll ever be fixed. I go through severe bouts of depression sometimes. It's not something I usually share with people.  Mostly, I go off on my own for a few days, no one sees or hears from me, I do what I do, and then I come back and I'm better again. I don't have much of a place to escape to since I moved here.

I'll stop being emo in a day or two.

Sometimes I just feel like I'm a hopeless fuck up. Nothing I do will be good enough or get me to a place where I'll be happy with my life.

And it's pretty depressing when you think about what you're working for. You work. So you can eat. So you can stay alive. To work. To make more money. To put a roof over your head so you can stay alive. So you can work. MY POINT; You work your ass off all your life, and for what? Some shitty house, and a shitty marriage you aren't happy in? A life where you regret that you spent the past 40 years working and forgetting about your dreams?

Talking about boobs with Sarge always makes me feel better.

He now knows that if I'm single when I get to my late 20's-early 30's I'll be stealing his sperm to have short, bald, large assed, adorable little bastards to preen for my nerd army.
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