RANT Your Brains Out #98274

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Sickday = no work = no chance to earn money and no chance to improve my skill
 
Just dying from the heat wave that somehow dropkicked Scandinavia in the balls with zero fucking warning.

Thank fuck I have friends who actually know how to deal with this kind of hell, because I sure as hell can't. I want winter back, right now. Cold, wonderful snow, come to me.
 
I have $99 to my name and I need $1000 by the fifteenth. I get a paycheque of about $5-600 between then and now for all the good it does. Even if I live off bread and water and don't spend a dime (which is not an option because I have to pay a $70 phone bill and buy a $60 bus pass between then and now) I'll never get close. Also I'm tired, have headaches, am suffering dizzy spells. Probably cause I haven't had a meal in 48 hours.

I know I should buy food, but I'm using wifi across from both a grocery store and a liquor store, and if I'm going to spend my money, a mickey of polar ice sounds so much better

I dislike the turn this rant has taken. Later.
 
So I know you think you're showing that you care . . . but lecturing me on stuff I can't control doesn't do squat, for anyone.
 
Can I stop being sick now? Please? All this dizziness, loss of balance and nausea ++ is starting to get to me...
 
What the actual fuck is sleep anyway?
 
Really getting stressed out over all these papers that need filling out, and all these responsibilities and shit. Anxiety doesn't like it very much, and neither do I.
 
Every time I put in my two cents in a conversation with this person, they always say I'm wrong. ALWAYS AND I'M SO FUCKING DONE WITH IT. About 75% of the time I'm right. And if I'm wrong I own up to it, but SERIOUSLY FUCK OFF.

So done
*Storms off*
 
Ok, I need to blow off some steam. Won't be able to relax if I don't.

So.

I have three roommates. My boyfriend, my bst friend and her boyfriend.

I have two friends in this apartment. My boyfriend and my best friend's boyfriend.

My best friend... isn't even a friend anymore. We're just roommates who know eachother better than most friends at this point.

Sure we can hang out and play games and laugh. But friends don't act the way she does. Friends don't shit all over your kind actions and then act like you're the one who needs to apologize.

I was warned. I was. My boyfriend's brother told me from the start that she was a shitty person. This girl had dated my man previously, and it's obvious to see why the relationship failed- though they are good friends now.

The problem is she's very... self-centered. If you look at her tumblr, it's mostly cutesy stuff and pics and content that draws in followers like no one's business. If she's actually posts something original, it feels... postured. her interaction with me on there is a lot more enthusiastic than in RL, like we're still awesome besties and sometimes-wifeies.

Problem is, we're not. She doesn't understand or respect my choices or requests- especially when it involves anxiety. But sure, when she's having a bad day, I'm expected to do what I can to help. That's cool, if she wants it like that, I've long since accepted and given up on our shit. Any attempts to rekindle that will not be met with enthusiasm.

I've finally come into my own with my attitude. Where she's got the followers in tumblr, I have in spades in RL. Sure, I'm weird and goofy, perverted as fuck- but I am genuine in parties and get-togethers.

I've been looking for housing for next year. Houses and apartments are being scanned through for the hopes of something homey.

I don't need her. I've got other friends, I've got others that are close to me. It's just hard to imagine that the friend I've had for four years that started so rough is finally coming to light as an genuine fucking horrible bitch to me. I've been in bad relationships before. So I guess I didn't realize it for a while. It took a good friend a while of talking to me over visits to my place for me to really figure it out- also my mom's hospital stay in Costa Rica helped me figure out who my friends are.

So, here I am, no longer able to give a shit- at the same time, I'm so angry. I want to rip into someone, I'm frustrated. I'm mad at her. I'm angry at her throwing our shit at gatherings and talking about me like some shitty friend. It's not even me being upset at people thinking badly of me- no, I don't have to worry about that. IT's the fact that she doesn't realize how bad she's making herself look. It's the fact that she doesn't care who's around if she wants to drag me through the mud. It's the fact that sometimes she doesn't even care to check if she needs to ride my ass on things- leading me to set my jaw, raise a brow and levee the old "I already did that, hun. I've BEEN doing that the past week."

And for fuck's sake when I say it makes me anxious when shit's stacked up in the sink nearly up to the fucking spigot, DON'T FUCKING STACK IT. I'm not saying "Oh, I just don't like it."

I'm saying that I literally have anxieties about the damned dishes, I freak out- why? Because for a very cluttered person I'm very fastidious about my person. I don't like getting sink water in the inside of my gloves when I do the dishes, I don't want to be splashed with the water. These things are harder to avoid when the sink is full.

Even if it wasn't a thing about the dishes being a panic-inducer: If you want me to be your fucking maid and do this shit all the fucking time, at least do the one thing I ask.

You're a fucking shit and I don't know what to do with you anymore.
 
You were the one who wanted me to move in with them, you were the one who wanted me back. You came to me with tears in your eyes and begged, and it worked. Now I know it was all an act. You want your Emmy? You want a fucking Academy Award? No, you want me to rebuild the World Trade Center out of toothpicks on a silver platter with a side of the world. I try my best around home, I do what you ask and more. Yet you still find an excuse to yell. I can't read your mind, you don't tell me what you want, and everything that goes wrong is my fault.

I know I haven't been perfect. Two pots of plants aren't doing well. Yes, they're overwatered. Excuse me for giving them water when its a hundred fucking degrees outside every day. Sometimes I miss things, am I expected to catch everything? No, I'm human. I will mistakes. But no, you're perfect, and its all my fault. Nothing can go wrong without my hand in it. When I ask you if I can do anything for you, not for me, for you, you condescend me for being insincere, and make it about me. I'm trying to help you, and when you yell at me because I'm not helping its because I don't know what to do. I can't read your mind.

Yes, what happened years ago was terrible. But its not an excuse now. How many times have you said that you alost died for me? How many times have you used that to make me feel horrible? You still blame that, you use it to get sympathy points from your "friends." Not even real friends, people who you tell lies to, creatig a group who hounds me at every turn.

Yes, my job doesn't pay minimum wage, I only work three days a week, but I'm helping smeone. Yes, I have a pretty easy job. I know you don't. So God forbid the one time I get sick and can't go I'm not critisized for it. You always complain of headaches, I know you have stress, I know you have trouble eating. But the one time I get sick, spend the night throwing up alone, that one time I'm the problem? Whenever I drive with you, you yell at me because I'm not good enough. I apologise we get there safe, I go the speed limit, or just a tick or two below it, I rarely pass others. Yet you critisize me because you have so much more experiance than I do. Never mind the fact you text and make calls while you drive, and act aggrressivly and put both of us in danger. I apologize for wanting to live. You're not the only one with stress, not the only one with problems.

And lets not forget your education, how it is oh so vastly superior to mine. Now, I have nothing against trade schools, we need them and the people who come out them with their skills. However, your trade school education isn't a fucking degree from Harvard. I pulled your high school transcripts: I have a higher GPA, I took harder classes, and... Oh, I don't know, earned a invitation to national acedemics competition in DC. What did you do in high school? You got pregnant and married an abusive asshole. Thats about it.

I tiptoe around my own home, no, its not even my home. I dont feel welcome here, I feel like a guest at best. I tiptoe around, I try to be as quiet as possible . I don't feel like I'm walking around eggshells, I'm walking throguh a minefield. I stay in my side of the house. I'msilent, and I write. And the one time I lose months of work and try to save it, I get yelled at. I'm sorry that I have a hobby, I'm sorry I choose to create and use my brain for more than just comprehending the pictures you thumb through mindlessly on Pintrest or Facebook.

Why am I still here? Because I care about you. I want to have a relationship. I'm trying to build a bridge, but you're burning down the trees, shutting down the factories, destroying the equiptment. I can't build a bridge.

My usual stress release tactics aren't working:
I shake, so when I go shooting I shake, the shaking throws off my aim, I miss the X Ring. I get angrier.
My Clan sucks. We go to war, I'll drop six stars against Town Halls higher than me, and we'll lose the war because of our rushed bases and ineffective attacks.
I don't want to burden my friends with my stress and problems. Its my load to carry, not theirs.For them, I put on a strong front. I want to be the one who they come to with their problems. I lie to them, tell them life at home is great. I lied to my coach about this, I lied to everyone about it. I don't wnt their sympathy, I want to help them, I don't want their help.
So I'm venting this out into the white noise of the internet. Who will read this? One or two people, then there will be a new page, and no one will read it after that. Do I want sympathy? No. Like I said before, my burden. I just needed to vent this, before I go Chernobyl.
 
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Getting assignments on stuff not covered anywhere in the curriculum or in any of the materials you got.

... Why don't you go shove an entire cactus up your ass.
 
I need to stop letting people influence who I am.
 
The people who scoff at the way I treat my laptop can, in all sincerity, go eat a bag of dicks.

The reason I treat my laptop like it's my child is because it's the second most important thing I own, with my phone being the first. All my work, memories, important things and all the things I enjoy doing rely on that piece of technology. So excuse me if I'm a bit protective of GLaDOS 2.0.

Still, after having an old laptop, updating drivers still makes me paranoid. I'm just waiting for it to die or reset or something, like the ancient one did.

Come on bby, don't scare me like this.
 
CRAMPING SO BADLY THAT I CAN FEEL IT IN MY FEET AND I CONTINUALLY FEEL NAUSEOUS.

NOT COOL. ;_____________________________;
 
I don't usually have dreams, good or bad. I also kinda live my life veiled off from everyone.
Ever since I came back to my home country I have been dreaming. I remember one very clearly, in which I saved a young man out of a fire and stayed with him in the hospital while his burns healed. His parents thanked me and me and him fell in love.
Recently I had a dream about coming back to America. In that dream, I went to a friend's house after a long time of absence. He said he was busy so I stayed outside his door, waiting for him to free himself.
I'm only now realizing how I barely have anything to hold on to, how my friendship is limited and it's too late to change anything. I fucked up too bad. I have to dream about falling in love and then I get my hopes up, before being brought back to reality by another dream.
So every morning I just lie here and try to force myself to go back to sleep.
 
Bored out of my damn skull, which is particularly unhelpful for my motivation. I've been staring at a blank Word page for the past three hours, and I'm no closer to thinking up ideas than I was when I opened it....
 
Learn to fucking read!


Is it too much to expect someone to read what I fucking write, when I'm doing an rp with them? When we're discussing said rp? Apparently it is. My bad, next time I'll spare myself from wasting my time and muse by letting my cat walk all over my god damn keyboard!
 
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