Whatever

                I want to care; I really do.  But I’m tired of trying to care enough for everybody else too.  It often seems like the things that are important to me are not important to the people around me.  Do you know how frustrating that is?  If you do, for god’s sake, let me know, because I feel totally alone in that capacity.  No one fucking gets it.  People with their bullshitty fake small talk make me so crazy.  Crazy, like I want to drill a hole in the top of my skull and let all the crazy out.  Crazy, like I want to voluntarily commit to an institution or a rehab clinic just to get away from the mundanity of the life that I created.  (And yes, that last bit is the knife in the side – the things which kill me slowly are that which I have created for myself.) 

                I wish that I could be one of those people who push all the bullshit aside and just be happy.  One of those Christiany, optimistic people who take it one day at a time or celebrate in the little things god gave them or whatever Christians do.  (I might be thinking of Alcoholics Anonymous…)  I can’t do it!  First of all, I like the dark side of me – it’s the place that makes me happy (if that makes any sense).  And secondly, I am fundamentally certain that all the compromises in my path of life (made consciously – all of them) were bad decisions.  I sold myself short over and over again.  And I have tried to make amends with that and just live the life I chose for myself, but I can’t.  The people we surround ourselves with are our lives, and … well, I chose wrong.  I compromised.  I settled.  I was wrong.  And it kills me a little bit every single day. 

                Certain people who read this blog say stupid, simplistic shit to me about changing my life.  I would like to say to them:  “Fuck you.”  Change your own life and stop fucking reading my blog in order to find out dirt about my life.  If you really want to talk to me, call me or something.  Don’t fucking read this blog and then judge me from outside.  Navigate to another place and hyper-manage your kid’s lives or something.  Go away.  And don’t talk shit about other people just so you can feel better about yourself.

                Do you see what I mean?  Do you see how the anger takes over?  It’s because I have no one to share my life with who really cares.  I have me.  Oh, and me.  And since no one else really cares; I don’t care anymore either.  I’ll do my job, and do it as best as I can, and I’ll try to impart some knowledge to my kids, and then I’ll die.  Pretty cool, yeah?  A great life plan.  My secondary job for now is to just maintain a level of consistency so my children can live without too much undue stress, and wait until it can be my turn to live my life again.  Hopefully I’ll be able to breathe in life again before I die of aggregated stress or skin cancer.  It just depends on how soon I’ll be able to let go.

                It’s so cliché, but I wish I would have known how all those little compromises would add up to such a painful resolution.  And a huge part of me is glad that I refuse to accept mediocrity in my personal life.  I deserve better.  We all deserve the dream, so why do so many of us sell is short just to make life easier in the short term? 

                I sure don’t know.  And neither do the haters out there who pretend they have their shit together all the time.