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Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/entry_id/235571-down
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Rated: 18+ · Book · Adult · #619079
my somewhat deviant life, and experiences this is me, take it--or leave it
#235571 added April 4, 2003 at 7:33pm
Restrictions: None
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short simple and to the point. thats exactly where i am and how i feel. if the job last night wasnt enough everyone has had an opinion about my bipolar disorder, even greg who i expected to undertand since one im him with tits, two weve had convos about this shit, and three having it himself i wouldnt expect him to be such an asshole about it. course my mom i expect cause shes just a clueless bitch anyway. fuck em all. seriousl fuck everyone. not like they give a shit anyway. thats all theyre good for is fuckin. well except perk but i kinda hate him too cause hes one of those annoying ppl that has lots of friends--unlike me. I have friends yeah right i have a big group of ppl that wants to pretend to be friends, but then when anything is wrong they just want to see how much worse they can make it--or give the cursory "how are u" or "are u ok" fuck no im not ok you sorry sons of bitches. yeah in case u havent guessed im a lil on the depressed side just want to fuckin give up on everyone and everything. i learned in OK when i almost had a nervous breakdown to kinda ignore the crazy shit that happens to me because i have enough trouble with bein depressed anyway without concentrating on that shit--it ups my depression/self destruct time a lot. That way i just have to deal with the depressed for no fuckin reason days. well its not fuckin workin this time. i guess you could say that ive felt it comin on for a lil while i was just tryin to keep a good attitude, keep my head above water--but then that fuckin job, and then all these ppl deciding that they knwo how the fuck i feel and what the fuck i should do--it just all lumped together and fucked my shit all to hell. I know i just have to hold on through this push myself to at least go to class and shit even if im not really there, that it will be over eventually, but its just so hard to see the end, so hard to fuckin not just go buy a bottle and curl up with it for a few days make it all go away. this feels like one of the ones that is going to blow my theory of tryin to make it without medication all to hell. i wanted to so bad though, just for once do something good, rise above myself and my fuck ups but hell who was i kidding. i cant even get a job at a movie store, when i was in Ok i couldnt get a job at taco bell (at which i have 2 yrs experience, trained at the #1 store in the nation) so what does that fuckin tell ya--theres no fuckin hope. i was, am and always be a loser. well no i wont i hope that when i get my degree that one day i will work for myself, i have the potiential to make a lot of money and one day ill laugh in everyones faces. but for now i have to sit here watching them laughing at me in my hole dying. slowly killing myself--walking around in a daze--just a shell of myself until this is over. thats what most ppl dont understand the depression isnt over until it decides it is--in youre head you know that its all in your head and its never as bad as your mind is telling you it is, but its like being tapped inside your own body--you cant get out until the depression decides to unlock you. i have a better description but it takes so long to write and i just dont feel like doin shit.
what really sucks is i have sean this weekend and i just dont want him to be here, i have no patience, all i want to do is sleep--the pain goes away when you sleep at least for a little while until you wake up--hes driving me crazy and its not his fault and hes going to think that i dont love him. right now i dont i dont feel anything except emptiness and pain. mom has pretty much decided that im just hung over from the party last night so i could probably convince her to let me sleep but i hate missing time with sean. goddammit. why cant i just be normal. the fucked up thing about all this is that most of the problem with getting jobs is my history and most of the problems with my history is this fuckin illness--i end up gettin depressed and fuckin shit up--losing my job. greg had the nerve to say that my depression isnt actually depression cause its not that serious and doesnt interfere with my life--well FUCK HIM if 2 failed marriages, 3 failed attempts at school, 6 years of totally fuckin my life up tryin to dull the pain, and a string of jobs a mile long isnt enough evidence for interference in my life then WHAT THE FUCK IS YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!!!!! ok i think i need to go this is not helping. disregard anythign youve read itll all be ok in a few days or weeks who knows.
i know this is nto what this is about or maybe it is who knows but i think poetry is all what you get out of it.
"we are the hollow men, we are the stuffed me, headpieces filled with straw, alas"

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Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/entry_id/235571-down