The Details Of My Days And Nights And My Thoughts And Dreams

Crying my eyes out at three AM sounds all kinds of pleasant, but it’s what I find myself doing lately…I don’t understand why life has to keep dumping loads of shit on me. I’ve heard a rumor that there are people in this world who have never been hated, berated, belittled, and bruised, never been abandoned or abused, never been loved and then left or outrightly used, never had to deal with death or famine or plague or poverty. I am not one of those people. In fact, I have never met one of those people. Nearly everyone I know has been through some shit; as they say, shit happens, but what I don’t get is why it always keeps happening to me. What did I do to piss which deities off? I have never murdered anyone; I pay my taxes; I don’t go to church on Sundays, but I know the difference between right and wrong, and I try my best to do the best I can. Why then, do I keep having men take advantage of my body? Why do men and women alike take advantage of my kindness, my hard work, my dedication? Why can my body not work correctly and nurture the unborn? What is so fucking wrong with me anyway? Is there this big neon sign on my forehead announcing to the world that I am miserable and lonely and have low self-esteem and I just want another asshole to treat me like shit and fuck me gently and lie to me and pretend to love me for a day or two? Why is it that one boyfriend knew I was overweight and got mad at me for liking to eat? Why is it that another boyfriend knew I talked incessantly and got mad at me for not shutting up? Why is it that when a guy doesn’t treat me like shit I think there is something wrong with him? Why is it that everything is always my fault? I’ve heard that the only consistent factor in all your failed relationships is you. Does that mean that I am the reason my world is falling apart twenty-four-seven? What the fuck am I supposed to do about it? I have been working on my weight and eating habits, and I am no longer whoring myself about, and I have never done drugs, and I rarely drink, and I am really trying hard to stop hurting myself, and I don’t suck on cancer’s dicks–er, um, I meant cancer sticks…Anyway, I am doing the best I can here. What could I possibly change? How the fuck am I supposed to quit talking? My words are the only thing that has kept from crossing that infinitely thin line between genius and insanity. All kidding aside, were it not for my ability to put my thoughts on paper, I would have killed myself years ago. And with my Sims game I can kill myself dozens of times in the same day, but still be alive, because SimAshley is the one getting burned and drowned and starved and whatnot. I am coping with life the only way I know how, and it’s really hard, because I had to learn coping skills amidst all the trauma and drama in my life, and sometimes I am bad at it. Sometimes I burst into tears for no reason, and sometimes I hurt people, and sometimes I piss people off, and sometimes I say and do the stupidest things. Sometimes I think I am one of those retarded kids that doesn’t know she’s retarded, the people I felt sorry for in school. I don’t know what is worse: blissful ignorance or ignorant bliss. I have spent the better part of my life trying to stay out of people’s way and keeping to myself, trying not to rock the boat, so to speak. I spent time and energy and money on making everyone else but me happy, because I couldn’t possibly be selfish and these other people needed me to help them out. When I dated, I fell too hard and too fast for too many clones of Mr. Wrong. I have thought for three years that I love Robert, and that he loves me, and that we just needed to ‘work some things out.’ Now he’s leaving me, yet again, and I am miserable, and crying at three in the morning, and to make matters worse, it’s Mother’s Day, and I had a miscarriage two weeks ago, therefore making this a very fucking miserable day. I should be in bed, because I have to be at work at 2:00pm, and I need to walk to work, but I cannot sleep, I have too much to think about. How do I get rid of some of my belongings in order to fit everything I own into a two-door Thunderbird? How do I get over losing my baby? How do I deal with losing Robert too? Why do I have to go through this shit in the first place? And shouldn’t Robert be holding me and telling me that everything is going to be all right? He refuses to share his feelings with me, because he says that I either interrupt him or ignore him when he does. I don’t do this on purpose. The interruptions I don’t even realize I am doing, and he could always tell me to shut the hell up and let him finish, but he doesn’t. As for the ignoring, I don’t ignore him, but all my life I have ‘zoned out’ unbeknownst to even me, and when I come to I have no idea where the conversation has led or why the person is glaring at me and asking me a question I should know the answer to but don’t. I can’t explain why this happens, I don’t know that it does happen until it is over with and I am in trouble with someone. I used to have girls wanting to fight me in school because they mistook my dazed look for rude staring, nevermind the fact that I can’t see or hear or think when these incidents occur. No one understands me, but they don’t take the time to try, they just take my shyness for aloofness, my ‘zoning out’ for staring or ignoring, my bipolar episodes for PMS or some-such-thing…I can’t win for losing, and the few people who see through the rough-and-tumble exterior, who manage to not get hurt too badly on my thorns, those few people still never get close enough to be true, because I push them away or smother them or cheat on them or use and abuse them and they usually get tired of all my shit and tell me to kiss off. Co-Dependency’s a bitch. But anyway, I guess I’m gonna try and get a few hours sleep before the bitches I live with start making too much noise for me to even enjoy a brief furlough into dreamland. Fountains Of Wayne–You don’t know what you do to me. I know you won’t be true to me. The least that you can do for me is keep it to yourself. I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to shout, but really I can do without the details of your days and nights and your thoughts and dreams.

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