Top ten things that I’d like to throttle myself over…
[In order of least idiotic to largest Pink Elephant in my Kitchen damaging. Tread lightly; not for the weak of stomach or those easily induced to eye rolling. You’ve been warned.]
[ul]
[li]Fearfulness, genetics, or both. Which seems to have been the catalyst(s) for the beginning of this lousy race for me. Regardless of how it started, I was given each little gift and I’ve never learned to get rid of the former. Until I do, I’m screwed.[/li][li]Giving up all/any of my friends, except those I run into in the living room. Hell, I couldn’t even keep up with all the wonderful folks who I’d been emailing with when this most recent backslide (trauma? episode? stark-raving madness?) hit. So to them, I sincerely apologize. You all deserve worthy epals and I’m unreliable, useless and just plain ol’ too high maintenance. Thank you for all the kind efforts though. That’s been unbelievably sweet.[/li][li]Self-medicating in ways that only proved to be fattening, life-threatening, depressing or illegal. And none of it in the ‘fun’ variety.[/li][li]Losing my religion. Well, that part wasn’t as bad as Mr. Stipe suggested, but doing without faith (in general) sucks. Lack of confidence, or any self-worth at all, doesn’t help the days get much better either.[/li][li]Now I really don’t mind being broke, but that said, the process of getting to the bottom of this proverbial barrel has been less than thrilling and more than degrading. I am now a disenfranchised stereotype because I can’t afford the damn dues.[/li][li]Always having to consistently be ‘on guard’ to stand up against my < insert four billion negative descriptors here > mother. For Og’s sake, I’m almost 37 freakin’ years old. Time to grow a permanent pair, so conscious adulthood isn’t required. I’ll just BE one.[/li][li]Still loving someone who is downright evil, despite knowing this in technicolor commercials that play 24/7/365 in your brain. [/li][li]Stupid effing depression, agoraphobia, the big “S” word attempts, panic attacks, etc., yada, blah, blah, blah.[/li][li]Hurting the only person who deserves sainthood ever. Yeah, the jump-up-and-down, tear-their-heart-out-and-eat-it, impale-them-on-rusty-dull-knives kind. This is the part where I don’t have to ask if I hate me. :mad: It is tattooed on my forehead. Right beside the 665, because I don’t try hard enough.[/li]
-and-
[li]INSANITY. Probably just a garden variety, but hey, if we’re all the mostest ( 
) unique, maybe this is the only thing that makes me truly special. At least all callps-esque. Hrmph. Right. I doubt seriously if I can even do this better than half-assed. Hence why I’ve been accused of “faking, attention whoring, laziness” and just outright “lying.” Is this the stygmatizing I’ve heard is all the rave?[/ul] [/li]
Anyway, please forgive my bitchiness. I’m sick of myself and hoped that venting might help. I dunno. It’s gotta be better than repeatedly wishing for another bottle of Vodka. I don’t really need to do anything that may mess up a positive in my life, like Doping, now should I? For I truly can’t type well when drunk.
: