get real.

as it gets colder, it becomes easier to blame my problems on the weather.

i'm sick, achy, tired. its cold and wet outside and i don't want to do anything because of it.


the fact is, that i've felt this way for months. i thought i would write about it all the time, but i feel like i've become more self aware in the past few months. with this new self awareness, i've become increasingly annoyed and embarrassed of myself. i don't know why i do anything i do. i'm constantly losing sight of what i'm working towards and i just want to throw in the towel and get married and focus on building babies.

that's so fucking terrible, i don't even have health insurance.


its not cool to be depressed. its not cool to acknowledge it. or is it? i don't know. really though, the past few months have been a steady stream of miserable with a few moments of happiness that are quickly over as soon as i lay in my bed by myself and have a second to catch up with myself. its embarrassing to talk about. i feel like i should be above it, i feel like i should have this shit on lock by now, its only been 24 years.

i feel stupid about it, i feel like i burden those around me when i let it slip that i'm in a bad mood or not feeling great. it might be because i've done the same to those around me for years, looking at them like they were spoiled pieces of shit as they whine about their first world problems.

i dont have any real problem right now. admittedly i'm disgustingly broke, but its not really bothersome, i can always ignore it. but there's a looming feeling of defeat and sadness around me all the time.

when oliver left, i filled it with weird relationships with probably too many guys that obviously went no where. obviously so as here i am, im the fireside house; updating my bullshit blog about my bullshit life by myself. i don't know what i was trying to prove... that i could be single? that i could exercise my right as a woman in 2009 and fuck whoever i wanted, no strings attached, no feelings hurt, nothing gained, nothing lost?

every idea i've adapted in the past year and a half is a pile of shit and i am a fucking liar. i'm not good at being single, everyone i have slept with has sort of broken my heart, and i think about people i shouldn't nearly constantly and fall asleep every night shaking my head in sort of regret and embarrassment.

so maybe this is about dudes. or maybe it isn't. maybe this is deeper than dudes and i just choose to focus on that because its easy and a temporary fix for a a general disdain for myself. that makes sense, but i bet i'm just making excuses for something i haven't quite figured out yet.

i thought a year and a half ago, when oliver left, and i was on my own- that i needed to prove how on my own i was. who am i kidding? i call my dad if i can't sleep at night, or if i need groceries. i'm a fucking pussy and i'm spoiled and i'm a sensitive baby.

i'm the exact opposite of the picture i've painted of myself in the past 16 months. i thought i would be forward, upfront, and honest... but i don't commit to actually being any of those. i just have molded myself into some awful combination of premature over-sharing, over-bearing, shitbag. cool.

i don't know what i'm doing. i don't know what or who i care about. i don't know nearly as much as i thought i did and i hate every embarrassing second of every terrible day.