I can’t seem to capture the reasoning or logic, but since my birthday (well, the night prior) in early June, I have been having what I am officially willing to deem a “shitty” time.
It seems as though more things have been difficult, challenging, frustrating, complicated, annoying or unpleasant since then. I could whine about the myriad of maladies in my life. I could bitch about all the people I am finding fake at Fuller. I could even place all the blame on how I’m weird.
But I won’t do that. Why? No idea. I just won’t. That’s how gosh darn frustrated and angry I am. It seems like I can’t touch something without it breaking. Like today, I lost my fuel tank cap. Trying to wash my car, instead, I do that. Right… that’s “normal”!
I give up. Seriously. I give up trying to understand what’s going on in my life. All I know is I feel like I have literally no home, no place of solace, and that there’s no one to really listen. I can’t hear anything from anyone, and I’m too stubborn to absorb if I hear.
Be glad you’re not anywhere near me, folks.