apparantly, i am hiding from the real world and wasting my time by having a fucking online journal. apparantly, i am boring and uninteresting and not entertaining enough, and people dislike me - yet somehow, i am not supposed to think that. i am supposed to be shiny and happy and confident and, evidently, hold my head up higher. it is very insulting to meet someone and keep your head down, you know. (wtf?) apparantly, not having a ton of disposable income means i am no fun to hang out with. apparantly, it is my fault that i was drugged out of my mind for four years and could barely get out of bed. apparantly, i give off "bad vibes" when i don't jump all over new people like a puppy. apparantly, there is no excuse for having hang-ups of any sort, especially if they are mine. and apparantly, i am supposed to play cheerleader and do the happy dance whenever it is requested of me, like a good little puppet.
apparantly, i am sick of fighting, and i just wish there was a magic word to fix it all. cuz i am tired, and quite frankly i'm just fucking sad. and i'm willing to do or say or let go of whatever has to be done or said or let go of, if this will just all go away. but it's very, very hard to talk to someone who's just bent on being angry. ha. imagine. someone *else* being the angry one. it must be the apocolypse.