Where de FUCK did the high go???

You know how everyone views themself in certain way and then they have this midlife crisis kind of moment where they realize they aren’t even half as awesome as their delusional brains have been implying their whole lives?They should be grateful.

I’m backwards. I go through most of my day knowing that if I were to disapear, sure a few family members would honestly be upset, but my poofing wouldn’t make even a ripple in the world. People would walk by my empy desk and assume I just left since I’m a temp. My friends whom I rarely hear from, ya know unless I’m throwing a party and supplying copious amounts of alcohol, would barely blink. Eventually someone would mention, hey I haven’t heard from her in awhile and they’d be all like “yeah she never talks to me anymore. bitch”
I’d like to live most of my life thinking I’m awesome. Thinking I’m one of the cool kids even though my hair never falls quite perfect and my makeup always smudges, and i don’t know how to properly layer my clothes to come off looking like a trendy kate moss. Even though most days I feel fat and ugly and small and unnoticeable all at once. I’d trade that for one frumpy year of self-doubt that can be cured by the illogical purchase of a fast vehicle painted in Slut Sloppy Red, with fancy rims that I only picked out because ” Oooo they’re shiny.”
Yeah, that’d be cool.
But that’s not how I’m wired. Actually, I’m not entirely sure I am wired. Most days I feel like the human mechanic opened me up and half-way through was struck with the undying need of a sandwich. So he just left me there half-wired and open to the elements. I already had glitches when i was stuck on the market, and strenuous day-to-day use has done nothing to assuage that.
I know I’m not the only one who feels like this but it’s hard to REALLY know, when you can’t exactly talk about it. People get sick of self-pity and impatient with comforting an endlessly neurotic person that, really, they just want to stop talking. stop crying. stop whining. stop cutting. stop being such a downer. Or they don’t get tired of all that and instead get tired of you not talking. pushing them away. refusing to explain.
When really, you can’t explain. Not then. Even sitting all alone typing into a non-judgemental text box to a blog no one reads you feel embarrassed trying to explain.
And that’s the mood I’m in.
I miss being rightously angry over rabbit feet.

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