Self-Pity

Well, it's not exactly self-pity.

Oh, what the hell, maybe it is.

It's raining. I got an interview for a REAL, non-adult writing position, and my mother bitched at me because it wasn't a "real" job. And told me I needed to go back to school. Can I point out that at this point in my life, I've basically been in school non-stop for TWENTY YEARS? I mean, I plan on finishing my master's, but after that, I'm taking a damned break for awhile. And then, she told me I need to get out of the house and meet people and have a real life.

WHAT. THE. FUCK?

Seriously, sometimes I wonder how I was born in this family.

Then, not only that, but I have a zillion things I have to do in the next few days. Write up a resume for myself that doesn't scream ADULT! Go to my interview. Clean my apartment (which is a never-ending uphill battle because I hate cleaning and am prone to getting overwhelmed and not knowing where to start and ending up in a big teary pile in the middle of my house, bawling my eyes out for no apparent reason). Work and make enough money to pay rent (which is looking like an uphill battle as well). Go to a damned wedding back at home on Saturday. Set up my NF accounts again. Try not to lose my mind. Etc.

I'm moody and irrational for no apparent reason. I miss B. and J. like mad. I can't find my goddamned collar, and I cried for nearly an hour last night because I don't know where it went. Then I proceeded to almost slice my damned finger off by accident. I thought I never would stop bleeding. I slept with my stuffed lamb that J. bought me last night. He smells like their house.

I miss them so much.

All this crying and lying in bed and feeling sorry for myself is so not me. I'm weirdly hormonal or something, I guess.

Oh, well. It's gotta get better, right?