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damm.
29.5.07 @ 21:31 my 350th post and i'm spending it on my problems. before reading on, if you're allegic to vulgarities or vulgarities with alphabet substitute by a dot, then don't read on. i apologise for the massive amount of vulgarities or substitutions in this post, but i feel that no other word can better express my thoughts than those words. ********** i don't know what's wrong with me. at work i'm just an ordinary girl doing her internship and being helpful's what i do. but once im at home, i just feel so ... no, not depressed ... lonely? i don't know. i don't even know what the fish is wrong with me. at home, i'm so easily irritated, annoyed. no, its not pms. i don't know. i just get so fu.king irritated easily. is it because i'm too stressed? but no, i don't feel stressed at all. everytime i've to come home to an empty house. its like so ... pointless for me to be at home. what's the point of being at home when home is just another word for house? when you thought that work can not be more satisfying than being at home, then you're wrong. i feel so much better when i'm at work. its like at least there are human beings around me. they might be busy, but at least i feel human presence around me. better than when i'm at home and all i face is the walls, tv, my 5 pet fish, pet bird and pet turtle. even when there are people at home (like today), i just get irritated with the stuff that was done. what else can my brother do better than getting on my nerves? i really hate being in this sh.ty situation. i feel like i don't even know myself anymore. i just feel like crying and screaming and shouting and just letting all this sh.t pass. i was supposed to go out with my friends tomorrow night, but they couldn't make it so its cancelled. i'm NOT going to come home straight from work tomorrow. i'm going back to school. even if jolene's not going band or randy's not going band. i just need somewhere to go where i can feel at home. of course, the band room seems like the best place to be, since it has always been my second home. i really don't know what's wrong with me. i feel so fu.king irritated with the little things. and it only happens at home. fu.k, i don't even know if i'm still me. i need some care and concern. or maybe not. maybe i just need my fu.king space back. and no, i don't JUST mean the space that i should have from my house (or home, whatever you call it), i need my space in the band room, my PIGEON HOLE to be exact. CAN THOSE FU.KING MORONS STOP PUTTING STUFF AND YOUR BAGS IN MY PIGEON HOLE. DAMM, SHOW SOME FREAKING RESPECT. i feel so damm trapped. trapped in a world i don't know. trapped in a place i don't understand, in a place where most call home. sh.t, i need a drink. just because i keep asking people to go drink with me doesn't mean that i'm an alcoholic. the last time i drank was like quite a few months back, at least 3months back to be exact. sometimes i just want to get out. get out of this ... thing. feels like i'm stuck in a huge jelly. there's no way to get out at all. sh.t lar. i need my personal life back. correction, i need a life. what i have now is a job. i don't have a life. who knows, some day i might get so trapped that i'll break away. break away from cultural norms and stereotypes. breaking away from the norm. break away from myself so much so that i break down. fu.k. i don't know. with love, xoxo |