
Boredom and Insomnia compels me to write a post.
I have not been online in forever, and have not posted in forever, so I would just like to bring this up:
I hate my life.
I am just in a bitchy mood and I feel like writi
ng a nasty, grumbly post. (Sorry folks. Little Isis can't always be bright and cheerful, especially when her life fucking SUCKS. Deal with it, I say! In fact, read t
his entire, complainy, whiny post! Get angry at me! I need to yell at someone and call them names! It will make me feel better!) Why? Well, this morning I woke up with a migraine- on my only day off from work or school, mind you. Because of said migraine, I missed my appointment with my therapist, which is just as well. She told me to write down the things in life that make me angry (according to her, I have deep seated sadness and anger that I cover up with smirking wisecracks and a sunny disposition. You fucking think?). So when I sat down to do it I ended up writing a poem about the moon. Figures.
Then, while I was trying to sleep off my migraine, my mother kept coming in my room to try to sit on my bed and to complain about things to me. She did this ALL DAY, multiplying my head pain by about a gazillion. At one point I got so angry I started yelling that I hated her and screaming obscenities. She tried to sit on my bed again, and I yelled some more and kicked her and punched at her, yelling
for her to GTFO of my room, for Christ's sake.
THEN, to put the cherry on the fucking cupcake, I realized I am likely going to have to wait longer than I previously expected to get lic
ensed as an STNA, because I had a dispute with my insurance company about the shots I had to get, so now I am probably going to have to wait
to take my
clinicals. FML.
Which all just got me thinking about how
absolutely no one in my life actually respects me. The only person who has ever respected me has been Mental Vertigo. She is the only person who listens to what I have to say and actually expresses concern for me when I am behaving stupidly or seem to be upset about something, instead of reminding me of what a failure I am. At least when she points out my shortcomings, it is not patronizing and sneering, it is constructive, and she doesn't make me feel like I am the biggest Fuck Up in the Universe.
My brother Paul has always been sort of decent to me, and I would have to say that out of all my siblings, I feel the most fond
of him and believe I am the most like him- we are both levelheaded, we like to joke around, and we have always sort of liked the same things. He and I were always the "sensible" ones, I think (Me! Sensible! That oxymoron should tell you a lot about my crackpot family). He was the only person in our family who ever tried to put a stop to my Step Mother's sadistic torture of me. But he never takes me seriously, and he is too wrapped up in his own life for us to ever be very close.
My oldest broth
er Matt was moslty gone all of the time. He joined the Marines when I was eleven and I have barely seen him since. (Not that I saw him much before, when I think about it. He is six years older than me.) He went to Iraq, and while I knew he would be okay, the fact that I hardly know him these days bothers me. We hardly ever speak, and
while he is occasionally affectionate towards me in a way that an older brother might be affectionate of his youngest sister, there is still a strain between us. He doesn't take me seriously, and like my sister Bonnie, he treats me like some huge joke and he patronizes me whenever he sees me.
And speaking of my sister Bonnie, I am so sick of her that when I think of her there is a bad taste in my mouth. When I see her I feel like vomiting. I hope she achieves her long held dream of getting fake tits (that her boyfriend will doubtless buy for her) and becoming a centerfold. Then she can rub that and the fact that Dad and my fake titty bitch Step Mother(her best friend) and my Grandma love her so much more than me in my face some more. Fuck her and the horse she rode on! I would like
to take her cosmetology license and wipe my ass with it. And for good measure, I would like to tell her how much her brainless opinion on anything matters to me. I would demonstrate by taking a long string of yard, snipping it into an inch long thread with a pair of scissors, and saying, "this is how much I care."
You know, it sickens me to my core that there is even a smidgen left of that old, pathetic, childish feeling in me. The part that yearns for their respect and approval. My parents and step mother included. Up until I was maybe thirteen or fourteen, it was all I cared about. But there comes a time in a person's life when
she carries certain things, and in order to become something other than a dazed, overly medicated robot who lives inside of herself, she has to discard certain aspirations and emotions. At that age, I realized, perha
ps somewhat subconsciously, that those feelings weren't useful and were, in fact, counterproductive. So I threw them away.
As for Pixie, see above about my sister. Fuck her and the fucking horse she rode on. Not that Pixie is going to be a Centerfold anytime soon- right. I suppose I have now become unmentionable around the Belt Household. The new "Bryn". How I BETRAYED Pixie. Jesus Christ. How many times did I cart her ass around because she is too damned lazy and irresponsible to get her own driver's license? And because her flaming gay fiance was too busy out with his "guy friends" (I peg that to "having sex with guy friends")? What a pathetic loser. How many times did I lend her money or buy her food? Gee, what do you call that? Oh yeah, she took advantage of me. No respect there. Just endless lectures about how I always "attack" her and how much more mature she is than me and so on. It is pitiful,
because her loserness rubbed off on me.
My friendship with Pixie got me to thinking about why I still hung around with her when she got me so angry and so annoyed. I mean, seriously, look at what she has just written on her blog:
I am so sorry I haven't been writing! I'm been rather swamped with things!Today in the mail came the Lush order we bought off of the U.K. sight. Everything was a WHOLE LOT cheaper then on the U.S. sight. I was shocked!Wow. She is SO SWAMPED! It must be exhausting, sitting around and buying make up online while taking o
ne class at Lakeland, and then getting your gay fiance drunk during the weekdays so he will actually have sex with yo
ur fat ass. Livin' the hard life, I tell ya!
Try working thirty hours a week, going to school all day on weekends, and then having at least two therapy sessions a week to prevent suicide. THEN see how utterly swamped you are!
And you know, I think our lame friendship reflected on me more than her. People would ask, "Why are you friends with her? She is a loser and she is a bad influence on you." Good fucking question. Maybe I kept her around because of that whole approval thing. It is hard to actually say.
Why am I posting all this? I had to write it down. My therapist thinks it will help. It is helping, actually. I am starting to calm down, and I think I will be able to write some
more on the Word Processor now.
Anyway, comment if you wish. We will call this a bitch post. In fact, from now on, every Tuesday I am going to post a "bitching" open thread, where everyone can ramble about things they want to bitch about. Carry on.