Almost a year has gone by since my last post, and I can barely remember where I was at that time.
Boy, well, lets say he was busy porking some other girls during the course of our relationship. That sucks.
What sucks worse is a year down the road, when you’re getting involved with someone new, and then they cheat on you too, and suddenly you’re wondering if you’re doing this, if this is all your fault. Maybe it’s the men you pick. Maybe you have a special characteristic that says to your men, hey, go bone someone else. Or maybe you’re just really unlucky, under some kind of voodoo curse, and you will go through man after man after man, a cycle of meet, cheat, and leave.
I should really not be allowed around a computer at two in the morning; that much is pretty obvious.
I wish somebody had told me, when I was ten or so, about how most of life’s big questions don’t have answers. You never get all of the facts and it’s never possible to really know how people think or feel or how your actions will actually affect things in the end. I wish someone had told me, life consists of mostly doing the best that you can and hoping things work out. I’d like to think that a world without inspiring success stories and rocky montages could somehow be an easier, better one – one where we didn’t expect so much happiness.
How did I get so far off track? I have no idea; I have every idea; I’m out of ideas.
I quit my job. Not the last job, but this other job. Well, I got hit with a car first, and so I didn’t go to work for a while. And after that excuse was all played out, I found another one, and then another one, until I realized that I’d rather stab myself in the face than go in again. And just like that, I quit.
Cowardly, maybe. Weak and lazy? Probably. But I can’t help but feel that there is something more to life than punching a timecard in an office, that every second was sort of wasted.
Plus, towards the end, there were the panic attacks. If you reach the age of 24 and never have a panic attack, you can rest assured that absolutely nothing, you still can have a panic attack and welcome to the team.
It’s awful. If you have never been found crying in the bottom of a coat closet because your thoughts are so scary that you went to the hospital for a possible heart attack, congratulate yourself on a job well done and earning a merit badge that I can now never receive.
I can’t explain how it feels, the gnawing, crazy worrying that eats at your chest and your stomach and your head and makes you just give up and give in. By the end, I was deep breathing at work, listening to meditations and popping xanax like they were candy. Nothing helped, really, and in the end, there was nothing else to do but quit.
So I did.
And it’s better now, but I still get them sometimes, just as a little reminder that I’m screwed up in the head, maybe. And then I don’t know what to do, or who to call, or if anything can be done really.
I would say I missed childhood, but that would be a lie.
Still, I want to end this on a positive note, so I will say that a large portion of today was spent tearing a motor out of a car – how cool is that?
