It has been a long time since I have written and I am sorry. My boyfriend was hogging the good laptop (this one) and my shitty smaller one (not this one) won’t connect to the Internet so I was stranded with only paper and pen, which is great and my preference, but it also makes it less private. My boyfriend read some things that I didn’t want him to read. It wasn’t anything bad, just how I felt on certain things that I would never tell him myself.
Things got better between us after he read it. I don’t know if it is a coincidence or not, but it worked I guess. He told me he read them. And even though everything is there is about him, I still got the panicky, throat crushing anxiety of he read my personal thoughts. Which is why I love this blog! I write For Anyone Who Wants to listen (haha see what I did there?) and no one knows it was me. Who the glass doll really is? I can tell people, “Hey, I have a blog” but never show them it. Only a handful of people have seen it or even knows about it. Here I can be free and real. I don’t have to pretend anymore that my life is great. I don’t have to put up a show when I’m pissed or depressed.
I’ll say it here and now for the records; “MY LIFE IS SHIT!” It could be hell of a lot worse, but it is the shitty first time on your own kind of shitty. Dealing with cheap ass landlords who doesn’t give a fuck about us. Or what scary thing will happen in my house tonight? Or what will I find hidden in a drawer that was his grandfather’s? What bullshit will I have to put up with at work?
Our fridge went bad today. I had to work. It was my boyfriends birthday. Me and him are fighting all day. Yeah it is just normal life stuff. And I’m grateful for what I have. Now I just have to be not sober all of the time. I smoke a lot now. Anywhere from a gram to gram and a half or more. I smoke before work. The first thing that I do when I get home from work is smoke. I smoke to fall asleep because of the scary things. I smoke to get away from my life. I’m still here and I’m still aware of the shit but I don’t care as much. I think of things without emotion attached. Sometimes, my depression will still leak through the peace wall I have built. Those are not good times.
I don’t even know where to start about what is bothering me. My boyfriend is so sick and tired of hearing the same stuff, but yet won’t ever try to make me feel better or change them. It’s me and my fault for why I think that way.
I can’t help that I grew up being put down, called ugly, fat, annoying, and more. My aunt was comparing who had the better butt: me or my sister when we were under 10. She didn’t do it in a creepy way like it sounds; it was just a joke, but that stuff stays with someone. Everyone in my 3rd grade voting on my survey if they thought I was ugly or pretty and the majority voted ugly. People today still calling me annoying or telling me that they don’t care about what I am talking about. My words don’t leave an impression. I don’t leave people thinking about me and wanting to talk to me or see me or make a real friendship. I don’t like people that much anyway. But my point is he gets mad when I think negatively about myself and says it is in my head, but it isn’t my fault. It is everyone who contributed to my self image.
The problems don’t even end there, but my laptop is almost dead.