a little bit of this, a little bit of that

Oh, Facebook:

Status: Oh, just being depressed about how dead-end my life feels at the moment. Time to go to sleep so I can wake up and work for 14 hours at meaningless jobs. Grumble.

X: Why do you do it? What’s the point?

me: Why do I do what? Work those jobs? Because I have to make money to pay bills/rent/etc and I can’t get anything better

X: It just doesn’t seem worth it. I dunno. Move somewhere with more jobs. Life is too short to do what you’re doing 

…Fucking really? Right, I forgot that life is totally that simple. Just need to move somewhere with more jobs, nevermind the life I have OR the more important fact that I still have to pay rent and bills anywhere I go and OH YEAH THE JOB MARKET SUCKS.

Ugh.

I spent most of the day with D and we were chatting about job stuff at dinner and he mentioned that his ex-girlfriend was working at a coffee shop and an animal shelter (which sounds wayyyy better than either job I have). And I just felt so depressed—-I’m not sure what triggered it, other than just the mention of the ex-girlfriend.

I just feel so lame. Lame for having two dead-end, low-paying jobs.

Lame for not knowing what I want to do with my life. 

Lame for being the “funny friend” to my roommate’s attractiveness. 

Lame for having an “okay” body, but being too fucking tired at night to change it.

Lame for wanting to smash my hand into a mirror every time I look into it.

Lame for not appreciating the love I do have because I want everyone to like me.

Just. so. lame.

Nothing like being awakened by the melodic sound of a cat grooming herself two inches from my face at four in the morning -____-.

(the very same cat who woke me up last night at around the same time by batting around a plastic bag in between jumping up on the bed to snuggle her ass in my face. Oh, I can’t wait to get one of my own -____________- )

Haven’t been this depressed in quite awhile.

I was saying tonight how it’s difficult to explain my tattoos to people in a simple phrase—all of them possess in-depth explanations that often are too personal to share generally. Of course, there is the risk that one will think you to have a stupid tattoo, but explaining my own personal struggles and difficulties is not appropriate conversation for an acquaintance or a stranger.

Then this breached into the discussion of whether not it should be acceptable for someone to touch or ask about your tattoos. On the one hand, if it is visible, one could argue that the person intended for it to be seen and must deal with the consequences. On the other, no one “asks” for anything based on how they dress or how they wear their makeup (ex, the girl-in-short-skirt rape position). I tend to believe people should not be able to assume they can touch someone’s skin or ask them about the meaning, but I will be as nice as possible if and when someone asks me about my tattoos. It’s just that assuming that someone should explain their personal form of expression to you seems a little, I don’t know, weird.

Also:

Fuck you fuck you fuck you

Ever do something you regret instantly?

*waves*

to post here. I guess I’ll start where I stopped earlier—D’s ex-girlfriend.

I knew she was coming into work, D told me she was picking up a piece of mail that got mailed to his house (they used to live together). Because it was so busy, I was trapped at the registers at roughly 1:40 when she came in. I felt that sense of complete panic—my heart rate increased dramatically, my stomach leapt into my throat and I felt like I might throw up (or, perhaps that was the caffeine I succumbed to this morning, despite my mostly caffeine-free diet).

To clarify, she and I have never officially met—I have no reason to confront her and vice versa. Additionally, I don’t have any fears that she’s going to “steal” D away from me. It’s more like…social anxiety. Like, how should I deal with someone who knows of me, but doesn’t know me and doesn’t particularly care for me?

She talked to a coworker for a few minutes and then waited by the line, all the while, I felt like I might have a panic attack. Again, I can’t explain this dramatic physical detriment other than to say that perhaps it’s my natural reaction to those—particularly girls—that I find intimidating. I tend to stand down in the presence of other girls because I feel like I am not cunning enough to play the mind games of most ladies.

Because D was in the back doing dishes, and as the minutes passed, I realized he most likely didn’t know she was there. I let him know, and contemplated telling her he would be out in a minute. But I didn’t, because I didn’t know if it would be weird to say that, or if it would sound like I was rubbing some existence of the relationship in her face, or anything like that—so I said nothing, did nothing, and avoided eye contact the entire time.

I am a coward, probably.

Today, D’s ex-girlfriend came in. I think other girls I find threatening/ intimidating make me want to throw up and cower.

More on this later.