Rant Your Brains Out #62039479

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I am not happy.

And the shitty part is that I -would- be happy if people would just understand that the things I need are vital to my mental stability. That I need respect for my personal space and time to myself. That I need to be trusted that I am not an unscrupulous whore or a turbo asshole, and I want to be able -to- trust that I am not going to get guilt tripped over things that are ridiculous. That I need a positive atmosphere so I have the purpose and reason to wake up in the mornings and do things and interact with people and not feel like it's futile to even bother.

It's so easy to fix. Yet for the past year and a half everything has been peeled away to the point where I don't even want to give any fucks anymore. I want to quit, and give up, and not bother existing. I am so afraid that I am just a few steps away from becoming the miserable, awful, lunatic people my mom and grandmom are. All because I am so unhappy over things that are so fucking easy to fix, but I just can't seem to make it work.

I haven't felt like this in a really, really, really, long time and I don't like it. And if something doesn't give soon, I am not gonna be able to keep it together anymore.





AND THIS FUCKING COMPUTER IS GOING TO GET A ONE WAY TICKET TO @#%#$^&%^#%@$@ HELL.
 
More nightmares. Lots of them.
All the body pain imaginable.
Swollen feet, swollen hands. x__x
Sharp pain in my right ribcage.
Boyfriend had to rush to work instead of going in at 1pm as scheduled so that he can make a shitload of pizza. Fuck the Superbowl. This threw off my morning routines and mama gets cranky when she can't send her man off to work with a full stomach. =______=
I broke my new bong. That really hit me in the sentimental heart...

Oho, and here's the best part...

My mom is going to Vegas. Around the time of my birthday. Nonetheless, that's only a few weeks prior to her first grandson's due date. That's cool, mom. Go have a jolly time in Vegas while you have a depressed daughter who misses you just waiting to pop out a baby. Spending time with me to help me through this is totally not a better idea than going to Vegas. :D (And yes, I've told her I wanted her here.) It's hurtful that she'd go have this kind of fun during a time that I'm not only having a birthday, but could very possibly have the baby too early. Who knows, right? Anything could happen. On the slight chance that DOES happen, you'll happily be gambling your money away while I lay in the hospital screaming at everyone 'cause I have a fairly big infant coming out of my hoohah. Furthermore, all this time, she's had the gall to gripe at ME to visit HER, even in my pregnant condition. Her decisions are upsetting.

So after I eat this brunch of pancakes, bacon and potatoes (the only highlight of my morning) I'm just going back to sleep. People are pissing me off too badly for me to want to be awake. Dogs, too. I'm fucking tired of dogs. Don't stare at me while I eat! I'll kick you in the face, motherfucker. >:[

Some sleep will help... I don't get good rest during the night. I'll lay here in the consolation of my son's kicking... Even though he's the cause of my aches, he's still the only thing right now who isn't upsetting me. *sighs somberly and hugs her belly*
 
Dammit Richard, I am sick of you always asking me to do the f@$#@$@ research for your WW1 US Navy reenacting group that I am not going to join. I am not going to measure and take photos of a life vest that no one is interested in. Stop bugging me about it.
 
Dear brother,
I hope your girlfriend leaves you. I hope she realizes that you have a temper that you will never learn how to control. I hope that if you hit her, she will go to the authorities and slam your ass in jail. I hope she sees all of the holes in this house that are covered up with cheap plaster, posters or stickers and puts two and two together. And I hope Mom will at least be a parent and make you fix the crack you put in your own door.
 
So much is wrong with me. I made a beautiful breakfast and I started crying because there's no one around to share it with me. I had to purposely leave scraps on my plate so I could feed them to the dog to help me feel better. :| Man...

I think I just feel lonely lately... With how shitty I've been feeling, having to go through it alone for most of the day, everyday is depressing. It's no longer a wonder why I just sleep for hours and hours. It's like my happiness is on hold until Peter gets home from work to distract me from all this stress. *pathetic sigh*

March could not get here any faster... I do not like that my favorite month of the year is currently the worst. =__=; This is a month of Valentines, my birthday, and baby showers! I want these mood swings to chill out!
 
Ugh only 7 months in and I'm already experiencing some burn-out from work. I love my job, dont get me wrong, but man all this running around and stuff is getting to me. I'm just glad that my co-workers are accommodating, but I still think I'm not doing as good a job as I could :/
 
My term paper topic is due in A WEEK and I have NO IDEA what to write about and it's a 10 PAGE PAPER and I am going to FAAIIILLLL...
 
RIP ankle
June 28th, 1996 - February 18th, 2013

I sprained my ankle pretty bad, y'know. It's not severe, but it's worse than mild, that's for certain. Now, my lovely doesn't want to hang out today, for fear that I might break my foot totally off or something.
 
Grandma offers me a chinese desert, which is essentially gelatinous brown sugar, and it looks exactly as I described it. To me, that is not appetizing and I have no clue why you would put that in your mouth. But she offers it to me and I decline.

She says, "You crawled out of the wrong womb. You shouldn't have been born to your mother, you should've been born to an American woman."

And when she says American, I know she means white.

"You aren't like the rest of the family, you aren't Chinese. You eat the wrong foods and you don't like our food. You're a different breed of person."


Fuck you.


I am American, and Chinese by blood and by my ancestors. You have no right to judge your own granddaughter simply because she's living in an entirely different world and lifestyle than you. Again FUCK YOU.

Oh and by the way, I'd eat Chinese food again if our family learned how to cook it properly.
 
Sure, maybe I'm dating her. Is there a problem? I don't know if this feeling in my chest is what you call love, or even like, but I told her that we'd give it a go. When B asked if I liked anyone, I answered with "I don't know," because I honestly didn't know. Don't automatically think that "I don't know" means that I don't like anyone! Jesus! R likes me, and I think I like her, she makes me happy and she is my girlfriend. GOD DAMNED END OF STORY.
 
I was so close to just putting on my slippers and a hoodie, grabbing my purse and then rushing out the door to go who knows where. Just someplace that ain't here.

Mexicans are so feisty and passionate. It scares me sometimes. I got to listen to my boyfriend and his mother scream at each other just a few minutes ago. Literal screaming. I'm already compassionate, not to mention highly hormonal from being prego. So tears were triggered. On top of that, I got to deal with lovely PTSD symptoms. It's been a while since I experienced flashbacks of my mom and step-dad having their violent, heated arguments. I froze where I sat, I cried harder, I started shaking... I got so afraid of the fight, and the past. My baby is still in distress, which upsets me further. The way he's moving around inside me is not normal...

I'm scared to leave my room now. The idea of being seen by anyone in this household is awkward sounding. What if his mother doesn't want to talk to me for some reason? I had nothing to do with the situation, but you never know. Maybe she's sick of me now, maybe she wishes her son and I would get the fuck out of her house. I'd be more than happy to move. I hate it here. Where would we go, though? He doesn't want to go back to Olympia with me, so we're stuck here...

Maybe in a couple of days I'll feel up to leaving this room.
 
OH MY GOD. No, no, no, no, no. YOU ARE 23. TWENTY FUCKING THREE. NOT THIRTEEN. STOP ACTING LIKE A CHILD, GROW THE FUCK UP, AND FOR THE LOVE OF FUCKING GOD, I DON'T FUCKING CARE ABOUT YOUR "Taboo boyfriend" BEEN THERE, DONE THAT. AND YOU KNOW WHAT? IT WASN'T WORTH IT. I have warned you, AND BEEN RIGHT, about EVERY OTHER FREAKING RELATIONSHIP YOU HAVE HAD, SO WHY DON'T YOU LISTEN TO ME ALREADY?! I TRY, goddammit, I TRY, to GENTLY point out what path you should take, I DON'T PULL THE "I told you so" crap when shit happens that I SAID WOULD HAPPEN. I HAVE CONSOLED YOU FOR OVER A YEAR NOW.

You're a good woman, and your heart's in the right place... but... get those fucking rose-colored glasses off right now. You're in deep shit with this.

Giving you forty-eight hours to man up and stop filling my facebook feed with the sappiest poems and heartsick messages I have ever heard. YOU ARE GODDAMNED WORSE THAN THE TWILIGHT SAGA. If I see one more Less-than-three, followed by a crying face, I am going to fucking vomit all over my boyfriend's house. We all get it. You're sad. You miss him. He's doing military stuff (Doubt it, hun), and your relationship is TABOO. SOOOO TABOO. Jesus.

Call Stephanie Meyer, she has the makings of the next big series- YOUR FUCKING LIFE. BOO-FUCKING-WHO.

God, you piss me off. I love ya, chicka. I really do, but this is rediculous, and I don't want this shit in my life. You are bringing out bitchy Julez.

And I don't like bitchy Julez, she's already come out of me five fucking times in the last two months. STOP FEEDING IT.

The only GOOD thing that came out of that was the fact that I got rid of a problem a bit ago by using just a TEENY bit of aggression. THIS IS TOO MUCH.
 
That is awful.

You are awful human beings. Just fucking awful.

You are terrible terrible writers. I want you to go away for a long, long time.

How can you possibly choose to type such drivel? How can you muster the confidence from one keystroke to the next? Do you not see what you are doing, what you are committing to publication, for all the world to see?

What is your disability? Your diagnosis? What went so wrong in your life that you have to come to this? This sub-infantile out-trickle of utter, utter bilge? What meds are you on or off?

Seriously. You are an abomination. You need to know just how terrible you are. Someone needs to sit you down and look you in the eye and let you know just how very very bad you are.

Awful... awful human being.

Please stop.

Please.

Just...


Just stop.
 
Am I SERIOUSLY the only reliable person who works where I do? WHY DID YOU CALL ME SO MUCH WHILE I WAS ON VACATION? FUCK OFF AND LEAVE ME ALONE I NEED MY SANITY BACK!
 
I am so done with Gardasil.
I have had hives every single day for a year.
A year.
On my face, hands, head, knees, all over my chest. Everywhere.
I am a MAKEUP ARTIST, how in the hell am I supposed to put makeup on when I break out to EVERYTHING!
After I got Gardasil, a three series shot, (to prevent cervical cancer) I ruined my body. I got the first one, got a big rash. Dr. says nope, don't worry bro, can't be Gardasil. Lolololololol. I get the second one. Break out in hives that never go away. Dr. says, don't worry! Your allergic to something normal, no one that gets Gardasil ever has reactions. Only reactions possible? Fainting after injection. (WHY ARE PEOPLE FAINTING AFTER?! IS IT THE CHEMICALS THAT ALSO RUINED MY BODY?!) I get the third one and I am sick, I get hives, weals, everything, the whole nine yards. "OH IT CAN'T BE- " Oh really? Well after my lawsuit are you gonna continue to say that you stupid Doctor? Three strikes your out! You didn't even read the stupid package, because it says right on it "HIVES CAN BE CAUSED BY GARDASIL, EVEN MONTHS AFTER- SPEAK WITH YOUR HEALTH PROFESSIONAL IF THIS OCCURS AND DO NOT TAKE ANOTHER DOSE IF YOU'VE HAD A REACTION TO GARDASIL."
I am a freakshow at school now.
My scalp is always covered in hives.
It is the most unattractive, annoying thing in the world.
And not only that, but my mother thinks putting me on Gluten Free, Dairy Free, Soy Free, Sugar Free diets is going to help. NO IT'S NOT. IT MAKES IT WORSE.
Let's just go through the lawsuit, get the however many hundreds of thousands of dollars, and use it to get gentler stuff for my skin. INSTEAD OF MAKING ME WORSE WITH STRESS. BECAUSE OF STUPID FOOD.
UGH!
 
I don't like smiling for pictures. Why is that a big deal? It doesn't mean I'm unhappy or hate myself. So you people who keep trying to pressure me into smiling: STOP IT. Fuck! See if I ever take pictures of myself again. -___- Nobody can appreciate the rare gesture unless it's perfect.

And I'd like it, mother, if you'd quit reminding me to 'get used to it' when I open my heart to you about feeling a little sad that my birthday will not be too great. Previous to that, I already said "Yeah I'm kinda sad, but stuff happens. I just need to adjust to the change and accept that I have new responsibilities now." Obviously, I'm mature enough to have already thought this shit through. I don't like being scolded, I'm going to be 22 tomorrow. I don't fucking need it. That seems to be a common problem from quite a few people, actually. Does it never occur to you that I probably thought of this already and then proceeded to bring it up to you so that I can feel better by talking, since talking supposedly helps? Naw, I'm just a dumb silly little girl. My own boyfriend treats me like that at times, too. Look, I'm not impulsive and blindly emotional like the rest of you! >:[ Even when I'm weeping my eyes out, I sit there and think things through. Whatever chastising and reality checking I needed, I already gave to myself. I'm not some princess like my mom, going boohoo when I don't always get what I want. I think I'm allowed to feel a little bit disappointed. That's it. That's fucking it. I have no intention of letting people feel bad for me. I just wanted to vent a little because it's a bummer. Whatever, though.

For goodness sake, I've accepted motherhood so well already that I want to spend tomorrow, MY BIRTHDAY, cleaning my room so we can have more space for the baby. We have no money to celebrate, so why the fuck not? Why spend the day watching movies and being lazy when I could be making all this progress!? Taking advantage of my boyfriend's day off seems more important right now. I can't lift, bend or even reach anything without his help because I have a damn BOULDER in my womb. I think it's a worthy sacrifice to ease my tension, too. I'm constantly stressing about the baby arriving early because I'm not ready yet. There are a few things left on my list; getting this room set up is one of them.

Sometimes, I feel like no one understands me. Is it really that unusual for a woman my age to be, well, like me? Then again, maybe it is. I look at my teenage sisters, they're both lazy, ungrateful, dependent and irresponsible. They're certainly not disciplined, either. I'm so disciplined that I feel like I have to finish college while I care for this child. It will make me more tired, but I can do it! Oh hell yes I can. They don't know how to prioritize or budget their money or...anything useful, really. Oh, and I taught MYSELF all those things. Sure, my desire for order, perfection, and preparation might seem obsessive. I'm even willing to admit that it makes me crazy. I can't properly sleep or eat until my chores are finished. Even so, at least I get shit done...

... -____-
 
How dare I unfriend you and block you?

How nice.

I forgot to delete you from my steam too... so now you're griping at me.

Look. I had some good times with you, I did. You're fun at times, but... right now, you're reminding me exactly how annoying I USED TO BE.

Happy, Sad, Happy, Sad, FURIOUS, sad, HAPPY!, ect. Switching out the strong emotions every other hour each day, and if people were lucky, I FORGOT I HAD FACEBOOK. Usually I didn't.

I know, life kinda sucks, you're going through a divorce, have two kids, and your soon to be ex-husband, is one hell of an immature fuck. And if I hadn't known that before- the five hundred statuses about him really would tip me off.

OH and lo and behold, the rollercoaster of emotions goes up again! Now you're happy because the guy you thought you'd never be able to talk to again (Military stuff, still think it's a bullshit excuse and he's just gettin away from you) is now GRACING you with phone calls.

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, can you BLAME ME? No one likes seeing what they changed from. NO ONE LIKES LOOKING AT SOMEONE AND SAYING "SHIT, I WAS LIKE THAT. FUCK, THAT'S ANNOYING."

I have been TRYING to help you, I had been, until I gave you an ultimatum and you couldn't do it. That's ok, I just can't talk to you anymore. Too much, it's too much.

I.... WISH I could bring back my mania for this. To be able to put on that mask of "I'M SO FUCKING HAPPY" and get caught up in the act. Because this DOES bum me out. This DOES affect me. You haven't hurt me, it's just... I can't catch you every single time you fall.
 
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