Why can’t I just be an evil witch in a fantasy book and live away in an old castle with my cat? And be feared and loathed enough to where everyone leaves me alone. I’d make potions, among other things, to keep myself busy. I’d eventually, after living a long life, wither away and that would be that.
So I didn’t get the library job.
I received the call just now, in front of my sister. I didn’t want to sound disappointed. All I said was, “okay, thank you.” She asked me if it was about the job. I said no and said it was about a photo order. I lied to her. I didn’t know what else to do.
I want to cry but I can’t right now. Not in front of my family. I just want to be back at my apartment at uni, by myself, in my room, and cry. Cry. CRY. Ugh now I don’t know what to say or do. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.
I’m freaking out and I don’t know what to do after all this rejection. I’m pretty sure this is the worst time of my pathetic life. What a chapter this’ll make in my memoir that I plan on writing but probably won’t because I’ll be rejected.
Fuck this. Fuck everything. FUCK.
Guys, this sucks. So much. I need a hug and a hot chocolate and another hug and some words of encouragement.
I’m currently in the darkness of my sister’s room. I’m about 3/4 of the way home. I feel tired. Nothing else, just tired. I’ve slept plenty, but feel like I can sleep loads more.
The interview went okay. The people I talked to were very friendly and they made me feel less nervous. It took way less than I expected it though. I still feel like I did adequately enough. I should be hearing from them in the next week or so.
It feels weird going home this time around, I’m not sure why. I’m not sure what changed. Maybe, and it probably is, the fact that I have to let my parents know that I am in fact a failure and don’t want to move back home anytime soon.
That should be fun.
I have my interview in less than twelve hours and what am I doing? Not sleeping. That’s what I’m doing.
And I just got back to my apartment, too. I told myself that I would go to sleep early because of the interview and because of the long drive home I would have to make afterwards. I’m thinking I won’t be able to make that drive. I’m 100% sure I’m going to be too tired to make the trip.
I stayed up talking to a friend. It was a great talk/hang out. I never imagined us getting as close as we have. I almost opened up to him. About the boy that blew me off during the summer, also one of his good friends. It was a spur of the moment thing. He had talked a whole bunch about his past relationships and things and I almost did the same.
But I stopped myself. He urged me to go on, but I told him that I couldn’t. I told him that it was physically painful to do so. And that’s true. I could feel my chest starting to constrict, my hands and voice were shaking. And I just couldn’t. I know I can trust him. But I can’t trust myself to open up about things and emotions.
I did open up about why that was. I made an analogy to a show we both love. I told him that I put this wall up to protect myself and each brick is a secret. The more bricks, or secrets, I give up, the more vulnerable I become and I just don’t want that at all.
I hate that I feel that way. I’m probably never going to change.
February 28, 2014
I received a call today from a library, not the library I applied to, offering me an interview. I called back and scheduled one. I should be happy, but I’m not. It was a beautiful day today and what did I do? I stayed indoors all day. I say I want to change my lifestyle and that I want to work on being happier, but everything I do contradicts that.
Part of my wants to sulk for no reason. I mean there are reasons to, but nothing major. That’s what is so conflicting about myself. I know I’m sad, I know there’s something wrong with me, but I push that feeling away because there’s no real reason to be sad. There are people around me who have it way worse. I have a family who supports me, friends who love me, a roof over my head, and food to eat. Why am I crying? Why do I feel the way I do?
I hate this. I hate this feeling. I feel so helpless. And I can’t tell anyone because I don’t want anyone to think less of me or see me as damaged. Because that’s exactly what I do.
I’m fucking stupid. That’s what it is. I should not feel like this. I need to suck it up and go out and have fun while I’m still young. Why the fuck do I lock myself in my room? Waiting for something to happen when it’s not?
Everything and everyone is so fucking stupid.
March 1, 2014
I woke up early and made my way to the plasma center. I felt good about today. It was earlier than I’m usually up. The sun was bright. I felt alert and ready for anything. I had talked to my parents yesterday and asked for money to buy myself an outfit for the library interview. I had made plans to meet a friend later in the day. Things were looking up.
Once at the plasma center, after being told that I couldn’t donate the previous two days, I was finally cleared to donate. But unfortunately things can never go as planned. Days can never go great all the way through. The girl inserted the needle into my arm, but was unsuccessful at hitting my vein. She asked another girl to assisted and she proceeded to wiggle the needle around. She hit it, but not the way she wanted. The needle was taken out and I saw more blood out of my body than I ever wanted to. Tears were already forming in my eyes, but I held them back. The girls who left me with a flesh wound called a guy to do the other arm. The thing about my left arm and needles is that they don’t mix at all. I’m not sure why that is, they just don’t. The pain is 10x worse than if done in my right arm. And the last time I attempted to donate with my left arm I puked my breakfast. It’s just not a good time with that arm. I guess he saw that I was in pain and, again, almost in tears, when he said he would stop and took the needle out. More blood. More anguish. I left with an unsuccessful donation on my chart and both my arms bandaged. I can’t even bend my arm. I have to walk around looking like a T-Rex. It hurts. A lot.
I was still compensated. I was given 40 dollars for my troubles. But at what cost? Pain and embarrassment.
The second I stepped out of the plasma center is when it hit me, all at once. Everything that I have been worrying about, stressing about, holding back came all out. And I cried all the way home. It’s a miracle I even made it back safe and sound. If I had money, this would be one of the days that I run away. Where to? I’m not so sure. That scares me.
I try to hard to keep it cool and not show emotions, but right then and there I couldn’t. My mind was a mess, still is a bit.
What am I doing with my life?
I’m not in school. No one wants to hire me.
I’m a waste of space to my friends.
I’m a waste of space to my family.
All I’m doing is wasting my father’s hard earned money.
I’ve fucked up big time.
I could die now and it would all go away.*
I can’t do this.
(*In all honesty, killing myself did crawl back into my thoughts. But I’ve already promised myself that that would never be an option. No matter how much of a fuck up I become, I can’t do that to my little sister. She’s my whole world and I’m hers. How selfish would I be if I took my life away and leave her here all alone? I’ve thought about this. And if you’re reading this, rest assured that I would never kill myself.)
I cannot wait for all this bad time to be in the past. I feel like shit now. But I’m sure it will get better. If not, then…I don’t know. I really don’t know what the future holds for me.
Sorry for my emotions being a goddamn roller coaster.