4:14 p.m. | 2015-07-07
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i'm in such a bad place. finding a job should not be this hard, but (a) very few options compounded with (b) "overqualification" via a degree compounded with (c) underqualification because of lack of job experience is making this a bitch. i'm resentful of my parents, because asking for money is hard, and when i work at their company i feel like they're pulling work out of the air for me, and then it runs out and i have to sit around and wait for someone to patronize me with more busywork. i'm resentful of my aunt, who got out of a messy relationship and pulled me into moving in with her, and now i have a million bills and $60 in my bank account and an impending talk with parents for that previously mentioned money-beg after making it a pitiful three months on my own. i'm resentful of myself because i don't have the personality that wins people over in endless interviews, and even getting out of bed most days feels like too much pressure. i'm resentful of myself for not asking for help, for assuming that any help i did find would probably change nothing, for not just getting into my fucking car and driving into a telephone pole.

i'm so mad. i'm so mad. i'm so mad at everything. it's not that life has never cut me a break, it's that i've never cut myself a fucking break, i've never reached a point where i stomped my foot and tried for anything, and i hate it. i'm defective. i don't know what it will take to make me reach that point, because if zero money and a shit-ton of family obligation and pressure isn't doing it, i don't know what will. i don't even care about that, what i care about is that my stupid survival instinct won't let me off the hook. life shouldn't matter to me, but it does, and i'm cowardly, and i'm still here even though i should have given up a long time ago.

i am tired of having this same argument with myself, day in and day out. i just want to be dead. but like most everything else, i can't seem to want it enough.