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2004-11-02 - 7:50 p.m. I am damn well tired of trying. I don't want to be told all the things I'm not, and I don't want to hear all the things I wasn't involved in. I don't want to sit at home every weekend, and hear about how I should have come. If I should have come, I should have been notified. I don't want to hear how I should have called. Because I ask, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and am always told of busy weekends, with the only social plans being quite pointedly private. I don't want to be told about the ways I fail, the ways I don't reach my potential. How I exude nothing but the most dampening of atmospheres. I don't want for sympathy, I don't want to be noticed like this, but I have reached a point where I simply cannot pretend anymore. All these wordly revelations, they're great. Wonderful. And they mean absolutley nothing if they sit inside me, while I read about some other person's grand scheme. I could care less, anymore. I am simply sick of being. I am sick of being goaded onto such a monotone path of job, volunteer, graduate, university, job. I want to have some sort of fucking normalacy in my life. And I don't want snide remarks, superior remarks in response to this. I would not dare presume to make some such thing about something else someone has written. How could I? I don't know them, I don't know what they think, what they deal with, the details. I can scarcely express myself. I scarcely know myself. So until I can make assumptions, I'd appreciate you don't. |
