I don't see how life can get any better. Wake up from a drug induced coma to find a member of my family reliving my past indignities by literally tearing my apartment apart piece by piece. Sad part is, he learned all of this from me. I'm the asshole who couldn't control the demons inside my head for so fucking long that I showed my children how to be destructive, and how to be maniacal, and how to be out of control when they feel that way.
I'm such a good example of a father, I would've been able to do something, but I am so awful at what I do, I ended up basically nearly getting punched out repeatedly, and basically cried for the better part of two hours of the day since I woke up at 3pm.
I should be happy for my wife, she started graduate school this week. But I'm not. I'm seething with jealousy, because while she's got delusions of grandeur as to what will transpire once she gets her graduate degree, I'm stuck in a dead end job getting bit on the hand by 400 pound buffarillas with cracks in their cranium causing brain matter and smarts to leak out of their heads like its fucking Niagra Fucking Falls.
I'm miserable. I want to cry myself back to sleep, and not wake up for the forseeable future, but of course, I gotta put the facade on, and do what I have to do to survive. I keep saying I'm tough enough, and I can do it, but now, I am not so sure, I am questioning my own strength, I am questioning my own resolve, hell, I'm questioning what the fuck I am doing, period.
Welcome to my nightmare. It doesn't seem to want to end.
1 comment:
I don't know you, or your background (past the blurb in your biography), or anything like that. I only read your article on Jeff Hardy today, saw this on your Twitter, and decided to follow the rabbit hole.
I'm not a religious man, so I'm not going to spray you with talk of "God is good and will help you out of this." I will tell you, though, that I hope that things improve for you.
I can't claim to know where you're coming from, as I've not nearly the experiences you've had, but I get a vague feeling that I might understand a fraction of a very small fraction. I, too, feel envious of people when I should be happy for them. I think it just goes along with some kind of strange mental condition bestowed upon the human race. An attitude of "me first, fuck everyone else."
Which isn't to say we shouldn't put ourselves first, we definitely should. Where it is possible. I say 'where it is possible,' as I know that you have three kids, from reading your biography. And I know, even as someone with no children and no immediate plans procreate, that your kids will come first all the time.
Sorry to pick your journal to be the one I go on blabbering philosophy about, just wanted to let you know that I'm hoping things get better for you and yours. Keep your chin up, and all that.
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