Some days I don’t even know why I bother to fucking try.
I want to care about other people but the people who can actually make a difference for me in a way that helps couldn’t give a shit about me because they’re too busy doing themselves. I wish I could understand their motives with thoughts that didn’t scream “you’re all selfish shitheads!!!” but that’s how I feel.
I want to work hard at my job and advance in my career but there’s a glass ceiling over my head and i only get to watch the ass holes in the suits and nice shoes stomping all over above me to get to their steak and wine lives. I had rice for lunch today and it’s not improving. Another year of experience under my belt and I just found out there is no advancement, no cost of living increase, no merit increase although my attendance is exemplary and my performance is adequately contributing to the company’s success. There’s no reward for being steady and loyal. There’s a bigger reward for jumping ship and going to the next ship and aiming for a higher deck than where you were, stay there a few months and jump to the next ship. I’m too old and I hate change and I don’t like jumping.
I want to get out of bed and help other people make things better in their lives but right now I feel needy and I want to scramble uphill for myself and leave all the sorry suckers behind. Except the hill is either covered with, or made of, shit, and there’s no way to climb up because it’s step, step, fall, slide farther back than you were before.
FML. The crash hits very hard and very fast. “You sound depressed, Deon.” No shit, Sherlock. Life just hit me again and reality sinks in and it’s a very shitty reality for me, stuck at the bottom of the hole at the bottom of the hill, while I watch other people advance their careers, their lives, their economic bottom lines while standing on my head and telling me life is sunshine and roses. Fuck your sunshine and roses, Yertle the Turtle, you fat fucking bitch, if I could muster a sneeze to take you down I would do it. If I were the stab-you-in-the-back kind of person I would fucking do it with a twist. But instead, you are and you did. Those people who could be helping me without hurting themselves at all, can’t see me. I’m fucking invisible.
When I rattle, if I bother, all I hear is, “Oh, Johnny, I apologize. I forgot you were there. You may go now.” And I’m supposed leave my shotgun behind and say “thank you” to the fucking bullies. The rest of Johnny Ringo’s character is just lame, it’s just that I feel left out of the circle of successes and snakish smiles and plastic friendships right now. You know how some people write a Christmas letter bragging about their lives? Yeah, right. Nothing to write about here and fuck you all for bragging about yours.
I want to fix certain things for other people but I can’t. I need to fix certain things for myself, and I can’t. I don’t have the means. So it’s a slow decay, slow decline, until I give up, and I’m almost there. Except the people who can make a difference forgot I was there.
If you’re the praying sort, please pray.
I’m sorry, but I’m out of give-a-damn about you, about me, about work, about family, about church, and everything else. I’m really sorry but I’m running dry and life keeps hitting me and cutting at me. I’m tired of the bruises and cuts and I can’t heal because I keep getting hit every time I try to stand up. I’m just supposed to quietly lie down and take it. Not like I’ve been presented with a lot of other options at this point.
Note to everyone who should be helping me and won’t because you’re selfish: FUCK YOU TWICE WITH BARBED WIRE AND BOTULISM ON A SPLINTERY BASEBALL BAT.