Sunday, January 5, 2014
Rizzo's Ramblings... It's been a while
Christmas is over. The new year has begun. People are getting depressed. It's a seasonal thing, I know. I'm pretty sure mine is a life thing. I'm not engulfed in sadness. I can function normally around other people. I just can't be by myself. That's when I think. I feel like my life is going nowhere fast. I feel like I do the same thing day in and day out and it's all for nothing. I work my ass off to stay broke and be behind on my bills. If I buy groceries then I can't pay a bill. I have to buy groceries because I have two teenagers at home, one of which has to eat halfway decent food because of her health. My job sucks. I get paid minimum wage (kind of) to clean up after other people who have no thought about the messes they leave behind. I work 6 days a week to bring home about $150. I am smarter than this. I could have went to college. I could be making good money. I feel like my life is worthless. I don't have any friends to talk to. I'm so fucking socially awkward that it's hard for me to talk to people in real life. Everyone thinks I'm strange. If I do work up the nerve to open my mouth I almost never say the right thing. I don't mind being honest about myself and that turns people off. They want to talk to someone who is nice, perfect, well off, whateverthefuck. I'm just me. I've never been "popular" and I thought when I got out of school that wouldn't matter, but life is no different than high school with its cliques. I have made some "friends" on Facebook, but they don't know me. I'm sure they think I'm strange just like everyone else does. Most of the time I don't mind having one sided relationships, at least I can pretend I have friends. Sometimes, though, when I'm all alone and trying to figure out why the fuck I'm even on the planet - it would be nice to have someone to talk to. It's scary in my head. I'm pretty mean to me. It's a good thing my kids aren't grown because I'm not sure I would still be here. A lot of times things seem so surreal that I question whether I AM here. I would love to talk to a psychiatrist, but I'm scared they would figure out I'm crazy. I have literally had a full blown panic attack because I had an identity crisis and thought that maybe I was just living my dead sister's life. All I was doing at the time was peeling potatoes. And thinking. Thinking is dangerous. Having too much time is dangerous. I need a new life.