I don’t think my sense of self-worth or my nerves can survive this week. It’s only Wednesday.
I don’t know how I’m numb and so upset that I’m nauseated at the same time, but somehow I accomplished it.
Why do you have to, like, work hard to achieve a dream? I mean, it’s totally unfair. The world is all, “Practice makes perfect” and “Dreams are possible with a lot of determination” and then I’m all, “But…nap.” God! I can’t believe I have to do something I don’t want to do AGAIN.
Last night I let the world make me average. I’m ashamed. Never again.
One of my favorite things about humans is when they just need to discuss something with someone else. An idea or observation strikes them, they leave whatever room they were in, track someone (sometimes anyone) down, rant and rave with possible arm-waving action goin’ on, and then go back to doing whatever they were doing. It’s a silly urge, but it seems innate to even the most...
An observation on today: WHY? JUST WHY?
I know the lamentations on this subject must be infinite, but…why do I always want to write when I’m not supposed to be and clam up when I have free time? Huh? Why?
Hi. I’m not sure it’s valid to ask someone for the reason that they made a mistake. In fact, I’m fairly certain you’re not going to get an answer any better than, “I didn’t mean to” or “I don’t know.”
I’m so sorry. I wish I could be what you wanted. No, that’s not true. I wish I could pretend to be what you wanted for 40 hours a week. But I can’t. I’ve tried, but I can’t. The days are squelching by without me and you are both the fire under my ass pushing me in the wrong direction and the wrong direction itself. You are down. You are backward. You are below, beneath, between. I want to rise,...
I will never please my boss.
My boss is only partially satisfied with above and beyond. I can only do about a third of the things she wants me to do on a daily basis, often less. Sometimes I beat myself up about it and tell myself I could do better. And you know what? I could do better. But I’d have to work late a lot more than I do and work on my writing a lot less. And I’m not willing to do that, because writing...
Hey so how about that apocalyptic rain.
How can I be so smart in some respects and so dumb in others? It’s like my brain shuts off when faced with anything that requires practical or logical skills.
I’m awful at my job. I try hard, but yield little results. Humans make mistakes, right? Apparently I don’t hold myself to human standards.
The wind sounds so much lonelier when you are lonely yourself.
But that doesn’t mean hate yourself or hurt yourself. It means become better.
I’m not ready to let half my weekend be over before I’m plummeted back in.
I’m infuriated with myself that I was too distracted to look for number 22 when I was on Baker Street in London. And I’m scared that I’ll never make it back to give myself a second chance. My boyfriend is snoring.
danisnotafaggot: do you ever look at people just and really really really want to be their friend Yes. I finally got up the courage to talk to her and she’s now my person.
I’m going mad in my own asylum.