Lonely and desperate aren’t the same

Because I’m DEFINITELY the first thing, not the second.

But what I also am is SO FUCKING PISSED.

Like, idk, I probably do desperately need therapy. Because I am SO sick of my waking thoughts haunting me. Why is it every chance I get I’m immediately thinking of shit that upsets me? There is NO point in harboring resentment or holding grudges or reminding yourself of the many many many many many times people treated you like shit, from the “Christian” adults in my life when I was a child to now, to my being able to do the work of two adults so my husband can continue to act like a retarded child. I did SO much for his 30th birthday, he did his usual pathetic bare minimum for mine.

In fact, I kind of find him pathetic in like…. a million different ways

Like he’s SO FUCKING QUICK to blame other people for his lack of achievement

Like i am DONE hearing him talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and then DO nothing.

Like is someone being nice to me the most I get to expect? I know it’s more than my mom got, but other than that my husband feels like a burden in so so so so many ways.

It’s horrible to feel that way about someone you love

Don’t say I couldn’t possibly love someone I disdain so much

You don’t get to tell me how I feel, remember? People don’t get to do that anymore. I’m a fucking person who gets to make the decisions for my life and my body.

Jesus fuck did it take me 30 years to be able to string that one together.

I just cannot remember the last time I wasn’t angry or depressed or fucked up. By fucked up I mean my usual blend of drunk and high.

I do genuinely enjoy working on my book. It is an enjoyable process. But. Is that it? I’m to hinge my life’s happiness on market success? Do you hear yourself?

I’m so sick of waiting for him, wherever he is.

Almost as sick as I am of waiting for my husband to grow up and man up. Or just stop making everything about himself.

Sometimes no one gives a fuck

Other times, I don’t want them to.

Eff, I’ve been in a bad mood for like three weeks now. Idk but Friday, December 21st, I remember being in my bathroom just bawling. Like, no one specific reason, it just seemed like what I needed to do.

I guess nothings new. If they are, then it’s just through the process of worsening.

The only thing in my life that actually makes me happy is writing. There’s other stuff I’m grateful for but like not actively happy about, if that makes sense. Like simple shit. I get I’m super lucky that I can walk and see and live in a time and place that has antibiotics and vaccinations, but like….I fucking CANT play the “at least” game anymore. I had/have to do it too much.


It’s actually very painful knowing what you want in life when the last time you were remotely close to it, you were being fucking lied to