Friday, September 29, 2006

I want some ice cream and a million dollars.

I feel like such a cliche. Little Miss Emo Girl. Problem is I'm 31 years old and this is bullcrap. I'm too old to be Little Miss Emo Girl.

I'm depressed today. The job interview I had this afternoon seemed to go fine--it's a job I've had before, so it's not like I couldn't do it. I did it for nine years. It has suddenly morphed from part-time to full-time, and looks like the shift I'm most likely to get is early morning, from 6:30-3, and I live a good 45 minutes away, so Lori will be getting up at 5:15 and she is not a morning glory.

Why am I talking about myself in 3rd person?

Who the fuck cares? Ugh.

I haven't opened this journal. My last entry seemed harmless enough, I posted it on my "real" journal at Diaryland. I just get so freaked, I'm sure my readers there are ready for me to be Miss Jolly McHappypants and it's just not working that way. I'm so tired of being sick. I'm so tired of my brain being in the basket.

Randy said to me tonight that I need to start working on my health. He's right. I do. I know I do. And I am so, so, so glad, and feel so lucky that he cares about me still. I mean, we broke up three years ago, and really, the only thing that has changed about our relationship is that we don't live together.

I miss living with him. I miss...well, I won't say all that I miss, because I want to be able to open this someday and that's pretty personal stuff. And no, it's not just THAT kind of personal stuff. It's just Randy is a pretty private guy and I know him well enough to know he would not like me to be so forthcoming.

This January would have been 10 years for us. Ten years. I can't stand it that we didn't make that milestone. I can't stand that I still care about him so much I don't know how I'm ever going to have a relationship with anyone else, because whoever he is is going to probably have to be pretty understanding that Randy will always be a part of me, and hopefully will always be in my life. It scares me that I might not ever find that person, and it worries me that Randy might not feel the same way. And it pisses me off that we broke up and we're still broken up when it is so obvious to me that if we could both just get our brains out of our respective baskets, we could have an excellent, fulfilling relationship.

Holy CRAP, with the crying. I don't know what the fricking frack is wrong with me tonight, I'm just so damn sad. I hate this. I hate it that I am never happy. I hate it that my email inbox is stubbornly without new content when I have sent two emails to two different friends about how I am sad, sad, and won't you cheer me? And then I am disgusted with myself because one of those friend's mothers died this past January and tomorrow is her mother's birthday and aaaaaaaargh. Dammit! I will have to send her an ecard. I am so bitch-ass fucking selfish I make myself physically ill.

This is depression, y'all. The thoughts that go through my head are ridiculous. "Why even bother, everything sucks, it's hopeless BLAH BLAH BLAH" UGH!

Now I have to drive to the Lake so my mom can check her email, whether I like it or not.

Stupid depression.

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