This is fun. No. Wait. This is the opposite of fucking fun. This is miserable. But go ahead, complain and curse some more, that should really help.

I was told to leave and I left. But I have no where to go and no one to call. I'm sitting in a parking lot scrolling Twitter because I was chased out of my own house. What the fuck is happening?

I am extremely aggravated that the only things noticed about me are the things I mess up. Meanwhile, I work more than one job and never get a vacation to hold everything together for everyone else, but that's rarely noticed.

I haven't had a vacation in far too long. I never get to go out. I never get to go shopping. I never get to do the things I want to do. What the fuck am I working so damned hard for, again?

Everyone loves to start the day with criticism and distain! It's basically as good as a motivational kitten poster.

Oh, you were feeling productive and happy today, huh? Well, we can fix that. Here's a list of all your recent disappointments. Have a great Monday!

It's amazing how much things improve when Dreamboat comes back and throws it down like that. Still can't walk straight.

How much doomed pessimism am I really expected to take?

(707): Update: my mom just told someone to shut up and suck her dick

27 days until I find out if I am valued at all, or if I've been used for years and it's time to move on. Am I nervous? No. I'm fucking terrified.

Another day of getting up early and going to a job I hate to support a situation that I don't approve of is getting so fucking old.

Exactly seven days left, and nothing has changed. No new vocation, no new motivation, no new anything. Losing hope and losing patience.

I'm torn between believing what I'm told and remembering how many times I've been lied to and used. I think only actually results are going to do this time. This is wearing me out.

No girl ever listed "apathy and defeat" among her turn ons.

There used to be passion and excitement for life. There used to be goals. He used to say the sweetest things. There used to be a lot of things.

There's no goals anymore, there's no joy, there's no hope. What the fuck am I working so hard for if I come home every day to a hopeless, joyless household? Where's the fucking motivation?

I hope you have a dream tonight about blowing your own dad, learn to use a fucking turn signal!!!!!! **And other things I yell in the car.

If I wanted to wake up to a fucking tantrum, I would have had kids. Mother fucking good morning.

And now for the stuff that really matters. I do understand that in times of extreme stress, sometimes you gatta pick a villain you can see and tear it apart to make up for the evil you can't actually stop. I wish I could make things easier.

When all of the important things in your life are threatened by forces you can't control, I think it might be tempting to pick a tangible enemy and unload all the stress and fear into that, rather than feel the pain of what's actually at risk.