Vent.

I broke down again today.

I'd truly love it if this never happened again.
I'm not *foolish* enough to think that it would happen that way.

I thought I'd be a nurse.
I guess I shouldn't try to be things that my body's incapable of handling.
Like, needles and blood being a big part of my career, when I faint involuntarily at the sight, and nearly the idea.

I'm not sure what I'm going to do right now. I was told to not worry about it yet, until I know a little more, ie: the financial aid situation.


I'm going to work a lot, like I'm already doing, and try to get the hell of out this house, first of all. And study really hard for my TA certificate still, since I keep slacking on that. Even though I keep letting it go, the idea of it hasn't changed w me. I still think and feel fondly. Maybe that means something. Like, that I should actually complete it.

I don't know how I'd be able to manage completing that while going to college while working.

Sometimes, I feel like my only real possibility for a career is to go to beauty school all over again.


Sometimes, I feel confident in that idea. Sometimes, I feel like puking.




I don't really know what to do. Sometimes, I wish I didn't have a goddamn car where I have to make payments monthly, and pay full-coverage car insurance.

Really though, I am in love with my car. I'd be so pissed at myself later, if I tried to sell it or something.

I want to get rid of my cell phone, because that's 70 dollars a month, but how would I talk to Dakota? And, emergencies. What if something happened to my grandma? I wouldn't expect anyone to actually come to my house and hope that I'm there, just to tell me what's going on.

My little bills: credit card: 15, NY cc: 25, school loans: 20. 60 dollars altogether, but I can't get rid of those bills until I'm making more than what I need just to get by. And that isn't possible right now. I'm working as much as I can, but I have to work at least 37 hours a week to make my bills.

Most of the time, I can't even afford to really add in that 100 dollars a month, for food and gas. I just wing that shit.



To do what I want to do, I need to make enough to save up a deposit for an apartment, and probably a pet deposit, considering. And an application fee. And maybe a Vectren deposit. That's a lot to be trying to save up for, when I'm barely making it anyway.

Especially since I want to be able to escape to see Dakota every once in a while for a few days.

And go to school, ish, maybe.


Like, there's no goddamn way.


It's hard trying to potty-train Harley. And he bites me and I've bled. But I love him, and I will NOT ever get rid of him. So I just have to cry instead.

Cry, cry cry cry, cry. Feels like I do that once a day.
Pathetic.


I want to join a gym too.
And learn to play piano.

Sometimes, these things seem like I deserve to be able to do it all, but sometimes, I feel like I couldn't handle trying to do all that anyway, and sometimes, I feel like I'm never going to be able to do all that at one time, ever.

I'm a pessimist. It isn't a secret.
This is just the way I've always been.
My sister would say that it's a second-born's trait, but I don't really know if I think it's so generic. My grandparents think it's a chemical imbalance.

Moments like this was what I thought my medicines were for.
To be my superhero, you know?
I guess that was a stupid assumption.

Seems like my medicine only works when I'm already in a good mood thanks to my own doing.
So what's the point?


Naps don't make me feel better. They just make me feel more sad and groggy and unhappy when I wake up. At the time, hiding beneath my covers, curling up, pretending to be protecting myself, ..sleep seems to be perfect. But when I wake up, I'm fucked x2.




I need drugs. I was trying to not do them, so I could get a good job.
This sucks though.
Totally sucks.
Really suck.
Sucks.
Fuck.