Welcome to the Whedonverse. Here’s your complementary shock blanket and favorite character funeral.
Mom said dad would like me to be at their appointment with Laurel tomorrow, but she didn’t sound like she wanted me to be there. To be honest I don’t really want to be there either, but it’s not like I’ve got anything else to do since there’s not OE meetings on Thursdays apparently. I can’t go to the one on Friday because I’ve got an appointment with Jill, but I’m certain I’m going to go to the one on Saturday. I feel like I’ve been getting bullshit and mixed messages from all sides recently. Don’t get a job but it’s your fault that Shelby can’t have a new swimming suit for her birthday. I don’t care if you get a job or not, but you’re not doing the work you’re supposed to be doing. Your health is the important thing and it’s not about the money but. Yes writing the book is a good idea, it’s good to have a creative outlet how about you do that when you have some free time even though 105% of your time should be devoted to the website! Pay one of your own bills but don’t get a job. You’re fat and ugly and no one will love you until you can love yourself and here let me tear you down some more because tearing you down is the perfect way to motivate you to not hate everything about yourself.
I was all proud of myself today because my weight was down again, and instead of getting a congrats or whatever from mom I just got a demand for a number then a half an hour of guilt trip before she made herself so angry she left. I would just say fuck it I quit, but I can’t do that because I still have things I need to get done. Honestly, I’m fairly happy with who I am. Weight included. No it’s not perfect, no I’m not content to be stuck living where I am, yes I want to travel. I also don’t have a problem with walking the whole thing because no I couldn’t afford to pay for two seats on a greyhound… or one seat for that matter. But I’m just so frustrated with life right now I just want to disappear. Which is -I guess- how I cope with things I don’t like… by not coping with them and running away. Things are not clean as mom would like, and I just don’t care. I honestly don’t see the big deal in a little bit of mess.
The creative projects that I’ve wanted to do for me have become a gigantic chore and I no longer want to do them. Which makes me angrier than anything else that’s happened recently. It’s like the world is ACTIVELY trying to take away the things that I care about and replace them with a festering boil of garbage instead. So not only am I “causing nothing but grief and giving nothing in return.” to quote mom from today’s yoga session… Nope. I’m not going to feel sorry for myself. That’s even less productive than anything else. How about I get my foodstamps card back and if I can’t make $200 last a month then I just won’t eat the remainder of whatever I can’t afford? No food boxes, no other assistance, no eating out. Keep the credit card I don’t want it back.
I want to talk to a doctor about my fucked up period, i wish Glenna would reply to my email about an exit strategy so that we can be done with that, I would really like to have something that I give more than half a damn about… but I don’t right now. Everyone else keeps saying how they can’t care for me, I have to be the one to care, but I just don’t. I’m tired of pretending like I do, I’ll never be good enough to meet my own really low expectations so why would anyone else want me around them either?
I’m gonna quit now before this devolves into a huge pity party.
You want tangible, social benefits to writing fiction? There are people walking around today because other people wrote words that spoke to them. That’ll do.
Warren Ellis (via annie-hall)
The Chorallaries of MIT
Sometimes it seems the universe just wants to be noticed.
John Green, The Fault in Our Stars (via wildheartwhispers)