My life would be so much easier if I never got my hopes up. I’ve been trying to get paid for my freelance journalism work for close to a month now. After pestering my editor (who is busy with other projects), he told me to send him an invoice. Since I didn’t know how to do that, I contacted his administrative assistant. She sent me a tax form. It’s been almost a week since I’ve contacted her, and still, I haven’t received a template for my invoice, let alone an actual check. And it’s been over a month since I took this job.
I hate being dependent on my father. Yesterday, I walked down the street to buy a new iPod. I had to pay for it with my credit card, for which my father foots the bill. Just once, I’d like to buy something with my own money. I didn’t choose to move back in after failing to make ends meet on my own. I’d really like to choose something.
There are times when I grow frightened of what I’ll do if pushed too far. Earlier this week, I smashed up a box of old knickknacks with a hammer just because my Internet wasn’t working. When your entire day consists of sitting around and staring at the wall, little things like that can get to you.
I’m tired of allowing myself to hope. Every time I do, I’m disappointed. What kills me is that I know I’ll be disappointed, but I can’t stop myself from hoping. The only thing that nothing seems able to kill is my faith. I’m not religious, I just believe that people who hold out long enough and give everything they have to give might find what they’re looking for. Since there is no way to disprove that, I guess I’m stuck with it for life. People go on with their lives without making room for me. It’s all I can do to take control in the only way I know.
It’s a pretty rare thing that I have a falling out with my friends. More often than not, they decide that they don’t need me in their life anymore and stop returning my phone calls. Just like that, they cut me out of their lives without even thinking about it. But I have to believe that some part of them knows that what they’re doing is wrong. No matter how cavalierly they do it, they’re still abandoning a great friend out of sheer laziness. That has to leave an empty space. I hope it gnaws away at them. I hope it makes them miserable. And saying that doesn’t make me happy, but it’s all I get.
I don’t need a shoulder to cry on. I don’t need anyone’s pity. All I want is respect and the knowledge that when I say something, people consider it rather than shaking their heads and dismissing it as just one more of my childish fantasies. When I complain about my inability to find a date, I don’t want to hear people say, “You’ll find someone.” That’s useless. It’s the sort of thing that people who have already gotten over the hump say because they’re too fucking stupid to remember what it was like for them once. Don’t take away my ability to joke about something. Bitching and moaning about my nonexistent love life isn’t a cry for help; it’s supposed to be funny. The first guy I ever kissed turned into a stalker. On some level, that’s sad. On another, it’s fucking hilarious.
Whenever I try to make something happen, it doesn’t. About seven months ago, I took an interest in a guy who was attractive, personable, and knew some of the same people that I did. After at least half an hour of getting pumped, I worked up the courage to strike up a conversation with him at the gym. We chatted, shook hands, and parted ways. In retrospect, I don’t think he was gay, just metrosexual. Oh well. It gave me something to masturbate to.
My life is shitty. I spend most of my time pining away for the unattainable, and when I don’t get it, I somehow still feel let down. I’m actually starting to enjoy the pain. Sure, I may never marry Brad Pitt or change the world, but at least I can blog about how much I hate everyone who doesn’t give me what I want (which is to say, almost everyone.) I almost never get what I want. Whenever I do, I try to remember the date, because it means that nothing good will happen to me for at least another six months. Some people seem to have most of what they want. Maybe that’s just because they want so little. I want to rule the world. Dream big, right?
I’m not expecting anything to change as a result of writing this. I just wanted the (zero?) people who read it to know that I’m better than you. You’re probably alright, but seriously, I’m amazing. Also, I believe that the best way to sleep at night is to empty one’s brain of all unwanted clutter. I’m working on it. It’s one of the few things I have any authority over, so I might as well get on it. Until then, let it be said that until something changes, I expect everyone in the world to try to screw me over at every opportunity. I expect the Earth to crash into the sun before I’m 30, and even if it doesn’t, I’ll probably die of cancer before then. With that in mind, there’s nowhere to go but up.