Fuck it. I hate trying to be all "look at me, I'm well-adjusted."
So I wrote a letter (one of many) that I will probably never send, to Tyler's mom (who we live with, as well as his step-father, both of whom are total asses). I just don't know if I should send it... I probably won't because I'm a pansy.
Although, Tyler is thinking of writing his dad (who is super nice, supposedly, although he did believe his mom when she told him I was only with Tyler for his money. Right. His millions.
) and seeing if we could stay with them for a while.
Yeah, I know, it could be worse. I could be living in a gutter. I don't know how many people reading this have ever lived with people for an extended period of time who continually acted like you were a non-being... but it's pretty awful. We stopped living at *my* mom's for that very reason. Now my mom's on meds and is a much nicer person, but that really doesn't help *me* at all. Now, we're here, and being treated like crap. We're at a total dead-end, and I know it's my fault.
But what the hell am *I* supposed to do? Whatever. I don't know.
This whole country is messed up. You Canadians out there: is it easier? My whole damn problem is that I can't afford the medication that will make me able to hold a job for more than a week like a normal person. Don't tell me I didn't try.
Here's my pattern: I get all excited because I'm feeling confident. I find a job that sounds totally cool, like working at a bookstore. I apply, get hired. I work one day, and I'm ok, just a little nervous. I start to second-guess myself and realise how little I actually know, and worry about what people are expecting of me because I only got two hours of training. Then I go home, and I'm anxious. I think about the next day I have to work. I think about all the people I'll have to come in contact with, smile at, ask questions of. I think of all the stupid register functions and whatnot and know I'm going to fuck something up. I think about my manager telling me to do this or that interaction with the customers. I think about whatever product and how there's too much of it and I don't know where any of it goes. I have a major panic attack and don't show up. A year or more later, I try the whole thing again.
I applied at a library (come on, a library, how high-stress can that be?) - I applied TWICE. With a cover letter saying I'd like to be a librarian someday, indicating my level of commitment, since you have to get a M.A. for that. They never even called me for a fucking interview.
Tyler's mom was having me clean the house once a week for $50. That was a sweet deal. But around Christmas time (merry fucking x-mas), she passive-aggressively started cleaning the house *herself* the day before it was my cleaning day. Gee, thanks for discussing it with me... I *was* paying for my college with that, but now I've had to drop out.
And I'm so pissed that some people don't even consider that I have real problems. They think I have it great or something. Like I really want to live WITH MY BOYFRIEND'S PARENTS. I'm 26 years old!
Anyway, that's why I love SG. I don't have to meet anyone if I don't want. Although I would love to. I'm shy in social situations, and may panic and not show up. But it's not like it's retail. Also, I get to be creative. I die slowly if I can't be creative. I'm also apparently a closet exhibitionist (who woulda thunk?)... so there you go. SG ROCKS and makes me feel productive. Like the amount they pay would really be a great supplement to my income But it's better than the $0 I bring in now. 
So thank you for reading, if you got this far, I'm a little embarassed that I spilled my guts all over the screen, but whatever. I feel better. I get sick of holding it in. I get sick *from* holding it in.
And a lot of the people I've met here(probably anyone who is reading this) have been really nice to me, nicer than anyone I've ever met before. So thanks, you've really made my life a little easier! It's the little things that keep me hanging on.
I like robots.
So I wrote a letter (one of many) that I will probably never send, to Tyler's mom (who we live with, as well as his step-father, both of whom are total asses). I just don't know if I should send it... I probably won't because I'm a pansy.
Although, Tyler is thinking of writing his dad (who is super nice, supposedly, although he did believe his mom when she told him I was only with Tyler for his money. Right. His millions.
) and seeing if we could stay with them for a while.
Yeah, I know, it could be worse. I could be living in a gutter. I don't know how many people reading this have ever lived with people for an extended period of time who continually acted like you were a non-being... but it's pretty awful. We stopped living at *my* mom's for that very reason. Now my mom's on meds and is a much nicer person, but that really doesn't help *me* at all. Now, we're here, and being treated like crap. We're at a total dead-end, and I know it's my fault.
But what the hell am *I* supposed to do? Whatever. I don't know.
This whole country is messed up. You Canadians out there: is it easier? My whole damn problem is that I can't afford the medication that will make me able to hold a job for more than a week like a normal person. Don't tell me I didn't try.
Here's my pattern: I get all excited because I'm feeling confident. I find a job that sounds totally cool, like working at a bookstore. I apply, get hired. I work one day, and I'm ok, just a little nervous. I start to second-guess myself and realise how little I actually know, and worry about what people are expecting of me because I only got two hours of training. Then I go home, and I'm anxious. I think about the next day I have to work. I think about all the people I'll have to come in contact with, smile at, ask questions of. I think of all the stupid register functions and whatnot and know I'm going to fuck something up. I think about my manager telling me to do this or that interaction with the customers. I think about whatever product and how there's too much of it and I don't know where any of it goes. I have a major panic attack and don't show up. A year or more later, I try the whole thing again.
I applied at a library (come on, a library, how high-stress can that be?) - I applied TWICE. With a cover letter saying I'd like to be a librarian someday, indicating my level of commitment, since you have to get a M.A. for that. They never even called me for a fucking interview.
Tyler's mom was having me clean the house once a week for $50. That was a sweet deal. But around Christmas time (merry fucking x-mas), she passive-aggressively started cleaning the house *herself* the day before it was my cleaning day. Gee, thanks for discussing it with me... I *was* paying for my college with that, but now I've had to drop out.
And I'm so pissed that some people don't even consider that I have real problems. They think I have it great or something. Like I really want to live WITH MY BOYFRIEND'S PARENTS. I'm 26 years old!
Anyway, that's why I love SG. I don't have to meet anyone if I don't want. Although I would love to. I'm shy in social situations, and may panic and not show up. But it's not like it's retail. Also, I get to be creative. I die slowly if I can't be creative. I'm also apparently a closet exhibitionist (who woulda thunk?)... so there you go. SG ROCKS and makes me feel productive. Like the amount they pay would really be a great supplement to my income
But it's better than the $0 I bring in now.
So thank you for reading, if you got this far, I'm a little embarassed that I spilled my guts all over the screen, but whatever. I feel better. I get sick of holding it in. I get sick *from* holding it in.
And a lot of the people I've met here(probably anyone who is reading this) have been really nice to me, nicer than anyone I've ever met before. So thanks, you've really made my life a little easier! It's the little things that keep me hanging on.
I like robots.