Happy Birthday to Me. . . yesterday that is.
Here is my list of things to Focus on:
1. Getting the Fuck outta this House, I hate it here, and I can no longer take it.
2. Getting on the Schedule at Work. Not just a call in.
3. Get Car to work perfectly without it just dying for no reason.
4. Pay off-all outstanding debts. This should be complete soon... but.
5. Finding a way to entertain myself without recreational drugs.
6. Exercise. Exercise. Exercise.
7. Stop breaking the law whereas my karma will be reflected unto so.
8.

I hate my life
I hate my friends
I hate working
I hate being poor
I hate being gay
I hate having red hair
I hate being single
I hate being me
I hate not having a job
I hate my family
I could change it all
if I only wanted too.

Monday! Monday! Monday!

Hey, hey, hey.

It's the last day of February, 2011, and the wind is blowing something fierce outside. I awoke kinda early today. I've been retaining a regular sleep schedule these days, which is something a little more contemporary than I'm used too. I'm feeling better. Routines and schedules are something I'm trying to incorporate more and more of these days. Hold on, let me sip my coffee, and flick my cigarette.

Last night was the Oscars. It was soooo boring to watch- but my stomach always goes into knots the second they utter the words, ". . . and the Oscar goes too. . . " and I end up with a stupid smile on my face or some disappointing look of hate. Ha. I fucking loved Inception- and I wanted it to win everything it could. My gal pal Natalie Portman (ha, I wish) took home the shining gold man for her work in "Black Swan" a movie I fucking adore. I hated the hosts, I just feel like I could do such a better job ;) I drank like 6 beers and smoked 3 joints, but I wasn't nearly fucked up enough to handle all the singing and of course PS22's lovely jaunt at the end. I just can't take all the happiness. Too cheezy. Why do we have to pretend ? ? ?

Yep. Not much going on today. I'm just gonna be a fucking lazy bum and roam around my cage until darkness falls and I can fall asleep. I need to be more pro-active. I need to be re-active. I just hafta start being active, yo. Comfort and familiarity will be my death, so I must step outta my comfort zone and achieve, conquer, and destroy.

Awaiting to hear back from me mum. I always am waiting for that harlot to respond. Humph. Will TODAY be the day???

Eftermidaggen

What the fuck is real anymore? I can't stop thinking.
I feel so sorry for myself and all sorts of situations that IS my life.
All I want is for someone to be there for me when the tears start. And, like, is that too much to ask?

I have to pass this drug test for a job. It keeps reminding me of Eugene. I was deathly poor and I had applied at Target. I nailed the interview and was hired on the spot. It was the solution to all our monetary problems! I just had to pass this drug test. SO. The cunning fox I am I got my good dear neighbor to piss for me. I fucking took his piss, transferred it into a condom, and shoved that shit so far under my balls I could swear I had three testicles. Of course upon transferring my urine filled condom into the cup, it had grown too cold and I had to re-piss with my own piss. Of course I failed. If I didn't smoke pot I would have gotten that job and would probably still be living happily in Eugene. But I didn't. I cried so hard that night.

So. I haven't smoked in like 2 days. Someone says they will piss for me, but I keep getting flashbacks of Target and my destiny to fail.
Why do they test for marijuana?? my god. I'm not a fucking crack head or a meth addict. I can do my work perfectly fine. This fucking plant is my anti-depressant. I've been so suicidal these past days it's unreal. I'm out of my actual prescribed depression medicine because the stupid doctor only gave me 15 daily pills to last for 30 days. Yeah, because that makes PERFECT sense. I'm so chemically unbalanced, I fear I could do anything.
I lost my apartment and had to move into a place with no privacy and no privileges. I feel like I'm in jail. Again. I need support. I can't get it from anyone. I text a friend, no answer. I text another friend, no fucking answer. I would give the fucking clothes offa my back for these people, and they can't even give me a shoulder to cry on?? Where's the romance, where's the justice, where's the fucking compasion?
So I'm sitting here. With nothing to do. I tried to go to the library and check out some books. BUT you hafta to have money these days. I have no money. I have nothing. Just my thoughts. My endless swirling thoughts of doom.
The potential I posses is pathetic. I am too tired to fight the fight anymore. I was tired when I was eight years old being beaten with a belt for no fucking reason. I was tired when my parent's divorced, again. I was tired even before all the drugs.
My grandparents sent Beau money. They don't even call me. But they will send their 6 year old autistic grandchild money. That's the love that surrounds me. My family? What family? I raised myself, and I didn't do a very good job at it.
I just wanna get so fucked up I don't wake up. But I can't. I have a drug test in a couple o days. What if I fail?? even after sobering up and putting myself through all this chemical pain. How stupid will I feel then?? It would just be my luck.
I'm destined to die alone, working at some fucking Dairy Queen, thinking of ways I could have done things differently.
Who would even want to be with me? With all this shit? My chaotic mind always racing towards nihilistic upbringings. I have so much love to give. It's just not fair.
Not even my best friend Bryen gets it. He can sit there with a check for 180 bucks in his pocket for days and days and even when we have no food or nothing to do, he never exclaims, "HEY! I got an idea, let's cash my check, you and I can get some food, then we'll get a bottle and drink the night away!" Nope. He would rather sit on his computer with his imaginary life and pretend everything is all good.

I'm tired of complaining. I just needed to talk, and no one wanted to listen.

Tis been many moons bitches.

Yeah.

I quit at Fuddrucker's. Too many months too late if you ask me. I hated that place with such a passion, the final month, I didn't give a single fuck about anything. It's so sad. I was so happy to get employed there. I was trained in two states. TWO. This poor fag got to travel, via airplane, to both Arizona and Missouri, and I learned management. Tis a shame I never got to use my education to it's full potential.
A bunch of crazy shit started happening the last month. Maybe I just stopped caring. Maybe I wanted to get caught. Anyways. SHIT has been falling. and I can't wait till it hits the fan.
I got drunk one night at a party and literally, over a stupid miss-understaning, beat the shit outta my best friend. Bad. The guilt and anger I had over myself was tremendous. Am I becoming my father when I drink? I've strived for years to be everything my parent's aren't. Yet as depression creeps up towards the midnight hours, it gets harder and harder to resist.
I just want to be happy. To be happy without the use of substances. Is that too hard to ask???
I met someone. Of course he's married. They all are. Am I destined to die alone??? Whatever. He makes me feel so happy, and that's all I care about these days.
I had a job interview today. Taking care of those in need. I'm excited. Excited to earn money.

I'm going back to college. Try and stop me. I want to go to culinary school, work at a restaurant and paint art til the day I die. As long as I have someone next to me at night, I could ask for nothing better.

Had my own apartment for like 2 months. But of course. The Lund luck strikes again. Now I'm back to Bryen's parent's house. Sharing a room with my best friend, which doesn't bother me, but I miss my privacy. I miss decorating. I miss being creative.

I've been running a lot. Lifting weights. Turning my skeletal body into somesort of toned slender alien. Eh. At least I'm healthy :)