bitterdiva

Call it Monday; call it nerves; call it escapism

I haven’t been feeling up to my normal bitter self in fact I’ve been beyond bitter almost bounding beyond angst straight into my dark Jacuzzi of depression. This weekend instead of enjoying the beautiful weather, I did my best to escape into some other world, being a voyeur into the life of someone else so I don’t have to deal with my own. In that aspect, reading is addictive, psychologically speaking.

I’m just starting to get fussy with my life, or the lack thereof. I’m a jealous person and when I see my friends having fun I’m happy for them and then I realize I’m not apart of the fun and then I get downtrodden. I could have gone to a concert this past week, but I didn’t. I don’t know why I didn’t, just figured that I’d let the guys go and enjoy themselves for once. Whereas I walked around the mall for an hour, picked up a pretzel, ran some errands, and ate a chicken-fucking-patty for dinner. I didn’t have the heart to cook something for myself nor go somewhere and eat out.

I’m very dependent on what others are doing. I don’t like doing things alone, I don’t even enjoy sleeping by myself at night. I don’t like to think for myself, I don’t like making decisions. I’m more concerned about the feelings of others than my own. I’d rather have everyone happy and if I can make that possible then so be it, even at the expense of my own.

So I play the martyr, I play the sacrificial mother, I play the rolls the inevitably would leave me with bearing pain and responsibility. Some days I wish that someone is going to come by and bring me good news of something special for me. I don’t have many things in life, I don’t really care about material objects, I just want someone to treat me how I should be treated. I think life would be a lot easier if I lived in one of the stories the I read; okay not easier, more adventure with less boredom.

09:13 AM

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