Wednesday, October 14, 2015

Selling things? Selling me? Selling out?

The gotten to the point where selling something has becoming a legitimate plausibility. 
Be it a kidney, my body or my soul... I've reached a breaking point.
I considered my eggs then realized no one would want them. 
And the though of my child being out there experiencing Goddess knows what... Not sure how I feel about that. But everything else has made it to the realm of possibility. 

I really do hate this stress, this feeling of being hateful and alone. I hate this disproportionate life I lead. It's making me sick, absolutely sick. I think I would not even be against some illegal activities at this point because I just want this to stop. 

I think to myself, how does this make me a better person? Feeling awful 90% of the time? How does that contribute to my human experience? And why is it fair?

Don't get me wrong I am thankful for the things in my life that I have to be thankful for 

Olivia and her health
A roof over our head and food in our bellies
My mother 
A good cell phone
A good job (despite the lack of benefits and adequate income)

At this point that's about it. Everything else after that is a stress ball. At included L. He's killing me with his own brand of sauce. And I'm sure he could give a shit. 
I have to say that more than anything, feeling alone has been about the hardest, and that's where he could've at least chipped in. He's so ungrateful. He's always complaining about me and our situation, like I'm doing nothing. Like I haven't done anything for him. Like I just take care of Olivia and myself and exclude him. With his goddamn attitude I should, it breaks my heart. 

The worst thing about a broken heart is the breaking stage. When you're standing there trying to make repairs to the fractures, then watching silently as its all for naught. Until it's shattered and there's nothing you can do. And you don't want to attempt to put it back together because it doesn't feel worth it. And the mere thought of it breaking again sends you into a wild frenzy.

I'm pretty sure I'm dying. 

I'm pretty sure my life isn't getting better with whatever I'm doing. 

I'm pretty sure I'm fucking it even more each day,

I'm pretty sure no one gives a fuck. 

Even if they say they do, what's that worth? 

I've gained a significant amount of weight. I'm around 200 lbs now. 
I don't look like it, but I kinda feel like it. It's always something, I swear.
Writing is my only solace. Aside from food, which is why I'm so fat. And probably why I feel like I'm dying. 


I thought I'd be motivated enough to do my second movie or to finally write my book, but I've been too depressed. I hate depression because it sucks everything from your life and practically eats you alive. Correction, it eats you alive. 

This dude on this train has KFC and I'm starving. Jesus it smells so good. He needs to get off immediately or I need to. I can't stand the yummy smell. I know it's not good for me, it's not. And its contributing to my fat. But fast and fatty foods is all I want right now. It's my fucking drug of choice. I would say don't judge me, but I don't really care. 

I spoke to my mom just a while ago. Which reminded me that I neglected to talk about our NJ excursion to visit L's mom. Olivia had been there the entire last week and L was there the last 3 days of her stay. L's mom, we'll call her M, invited my mother over to drink and have fun. It was an enjoying time, albeit embarrassing. L was too much to handle at certain points, especially during the part when we were heading home and he became a full blown Asshole. Yes with a capital A. It was even bothered my mother and it also made me realize I never talked to her about L. 

I wish I had, but I've been defending L so hard to my family. Making excuse after excuse for his deplorable behavior. I've been sticking by his shit for a while. Sometimes I wish I could bash him to my mother and she's still support me until L and I were no longer together on my terms. But I know that she'd just force me to kick him out, which although I think about every day I don't do, because it's not beneficial for him.  He barely helps with Olivia so being beneficial to me isn't really a factor. In all honesty I care about him, even though apart of me hates his guts. 

I guess that's what love is, or whatever. 

The gentleman with the good smelling fast food left a while ago, but the smell still lingers in my nose. 

I'm cold and tired and hungry. 

The three worst things to be. 

I just wish I wasn't going home to stress and hate. 
Fucktard asshole of a shit piece of man. Sigh. I had to get it out of my system. I'm just so angry. And lonely.   

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