zombette

i was and always will be addicted to anything that fills this gaping hole in my chest where the human heart is supposed to be located. for a while it was vicodin. then it was xanax and valium and other anti-anxiety meds. then it was oxycontin, which is expensive herion in pill form.
its a long story. i had never even considered taking a prescription written by a doctor for fun until i met my quote husband close quote.
im still in the process of getting clean. its going to be a lifelong struggle; i was told that during my month in rehab, and son, they werent lying.
i relapsed twice. im back on track now. im going to cosmetology school tues-sat 9am-130pm. its full of catty, cutthroat bitches, but im about 2/3 done, so im sticking it out. thats 22 hours a week, give or take an hour. i should be done by january, i think, considering its a 1,500 hour program.
i want to find a part-time or even full-time job to save money. but the only places i know of within walking distance arent hiring. im trying to make some connections in modeling, but so far the only person who keeps writing me and promising big bucks is glamination and i dont know if i want him to have videos of me playing dominatrix for the rest of my life. i mean, what if i DO become a professional model somehow someday? do i want that shit to come back and bite me in the ass? hell no. besides, im not a dom. i may have the look he wants, but thats not really my cup of tea. i dont know. my mother and i got into a pretty bad scrap today. i rarely fight with her. i try to stay out of my fathers way completely, but its impossible with my mother since she drives me to school every day and back, and so i just bite my lips and listen to her tell me how i need to find jesus and concentrate on my spiritual growth with jesus.
i have bitten my lips so hard that in some cases ive gotten home to find that they are bleeding.
and i asked her to drive me out to west bloomfield today because i made an appointment to get my upper lip injected with that semi-permanent stuff. she absolutely flipped out on me.
i dont know. i dont do a hell of a lot for myself. i dont go to clubs and parties. i dont ask for money. i dont ask for anything, really, except a pack of smokes now and then. i dont get facials and manicures and pedicures. i dont waste money on that stuff. theres a lot of girls who do, and if that makes them happy; so be it. who am i to judge them? who is my mother to judge me? who am i to judge her or anybody? but im stuck living under her roof; therefore i obey her laws and keep my mouth shut.
i apologize, really. this sounds like the rantings of a spoiled brat. i HATE complaining. it just brings me down and whoever has the misfortune of listening to me; it brings them down too. i dont mean to do that; this has just been a thorn in my side today and it will pass, i suppose.
frankly, i need a car more than i need a divorce. this divorce can be postponed until i meet someone i want to get involved with again or until hell freezes over; whichever comes first. i need a car to get around. she doesnt understand that. she still sees me like im stupid and 8 years old, i guess.
oh well.
im planning on going to sleep now; as its almost midnight here and i have to get up pretty early.