I knew it all along
12-01-06 | 10:38
I have nothing to write about, and mostly I find myself thoroughly uninteresting. Admitting that, Iíve stayed home from work again today. I am so disappointed in myself, but I am also frustrated. I donít know who I am, and I donít think I ever did, but getting older has forced me to start the search, and it bloody sucks. First of all I cannot get anything done, and I cannot even blame it on debilitating depression, it is just pure disinterest and laziness. Selfish laziness. I do things because I can, and donít do things because I feel like I do not have to.
When I was a little girl I mapped out my life plan (as well as the ten specifications for my dream guy), I was going to be an interior designer Ė quite possibly because my mom watched Designing Women Ė the final goal was for my interior design store to become a chain, but the interesting part was that every time I told myself my dream I surmised that it probably wonít happen and Iíll end up a prostitute (I never thought I would end up a prostitute, nor did I ever want to Ė it was just my idea of the worst that can happen Ė quite possibly because my mom also watched Lifetime.) Never did I think I would be where I am now. Maybe I did, maybe the prostitute idea was just my way of knowing that I would never amount to anything but an idea and I wouldnít even get that idea right. I cannot do anything, I cannot even depend on myself, my mother is my pimp, providing me with an apartment, an amex, and a secretary to make my appointments and to pay my bills for me. In return I let her have power over my life, and I work for her company, doing a job that I dislike mainly because it is within her company. So I run away from in and hide in my apartment, refusing to answer the door for the dry cleaning, or for the maid feeling like I won little tiny victories over responsibility when I am in fact just hurting myself.
Five pairs of Manoloís for answering to you when I want to stay home sick? Surely!
The worst part is that I cannot even get out of it if I tried, because I donít have the strength in me. I am just not good enough, and I am too scared. Iíve never been challenged because I was always so sick and frail as a child, and so as an adult I take the easy street for everything and get sad when I am not satisfied. I am amazed at what other people can achieve, it makes me feel the worse for myself and then I crawl deeper into nothing, to the point when shopping no longer gives me satisfaction. I used to fee like I didnít even deserve to be sad, and I am again starting to feel that way.
I guess other people are so productive because then cannot afford to be, but with me just being in the middle, I am not privileged enough to be a total waste but coddled to the point of total ineptitude.
I am an uneducated, selfish, spoiled lazy money-wasting loser; I am what I predicted I would be, the worst version of myself.
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