#112

venting.

just when you thinks are starting to look up, a light shines on the way things really are.


today i was reminded that i lack substance—that was my morning message—and if there was one thing someone could base us not being compatable on, it’s that, my lack of substance. so i didn’t watch the debate, i’m not wrapped up in the economy, i don’t know the day malcom x died, and i haven’t done laundry a day in my life. certain things just don’t interest me, or i don’t give a shit to find out, or i just don’t know. i may be a social misfit, ditzy, and have insecurities, but that’s me, and i’ve accepted it. so what if i live with my parents, and love them dearly for not finding the urge to ask me to leave. we own our house, our car; we’re pretty well off. i’m self centered, because if no one shows any interest in me, i need to give more than a fuck. call it over compensating, if you must. i can’t trust people, and those i do trust, i can count on my fingers. the intracate details of my social life are very minimal, but i love it the way it is. maybe my life is this way for a reason.

adding to the remotely bad day, i’m nauseated from the pb&j i had for breakfast, i broke a glass, and my hair isn’t doing what it’s supposed to do. eff it.

the very few people that have any involvement in my life at all, i love them dearly. if i’m talking to mommy about dating twenty five year old guys, correcting kay’s spelling on pretty much every word with seven letters or more, getting skeeved out by the fact that cory b. enjoyed her colonic, or shopping for vibrators online with sarah, i wouldn’t trade any second of it.

c'est la vie . . .





new blog name? maybe?