(no subject)
My mother doesn't call me anymore. For weeks I have left concerned voicemails, none of which were returned. In a drunken 2 am rage I begged her to call. Mother's Day came and went; still nothing.
I have toyed with the idea of talking to someone. I've admitted to myself that I'm unhappy. I'm not as resilient as I used to be. "I have been silently suffering and adapting, perpetuating, and enduring." Yet I don't think I'd be comfortable paying someone to listen to my bullshit. I don't want an uninterested doctor glancing at his watch and taking notes while I come to terms with my life problems. I have too much pride.
I'm not depressed. Just sort of apathetic. Content with being messy. Willing to feel exploited. More than happy to let alcohol fix everything.
God, I look like my mother in those. I'm shot.
I have toyed with the idea of talking to someone. I've admitted to myself that I'm unhappy. I'm not as resilient as I used to be. "I have been silently suffering and adapting, perpetuating, and enduring." Yet I don't think I'd be comfortable paying someone to listen to my bullshit. I don't want an uninterested doctor glancing at his watch and taking notes while I come to terms with my life problems. I have too much pride.
I'm not depressed. Just sort of apathetic. Content with being messy. Willing to feel exploited. More than happy to let alcohol fix everything.
God, I look like my mother in those. I'm shot.