I'm rubbish at my degree.
Boys don't like me.
I'm gaining weight.
I lack responsibility.
Blah, blah, blah. I'm pretty tired of it. Perhaps I'll go home.
Life has just descended into a whole new level of crap recently.
I'm failing assignments for the first time in my life.
We can't sell our house back in Toowoomba.
I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing about where I'm living next year. Mum's up in arms about it. Perhaps this just isn't what I'm built for.
However, terrifyingly enough, I'm not designed to be a house wife either. Someone doesn't want me at home baking rat poison laced apple pies, although I am a nice person.
That's right I'm a nice person you tiny flacid loser. Is that why you couldn't ... oh jesus, no one wants to hear my stream of consciousness stray any further.
Having abuse hurled at you when it doesn't seem as though it's meant for you just isn't right. It doesn't sit well in the stomach. Somehow this isn't me, this isn't right.
I don't know what to do with myself. I really don't...and not just in a Del Shannon kind of way...I'm sure he / she / it wasn't the first person to sing that song and I know that I won't be the last, but damn it it sucks quite a bit to be humming along to that tune.
Sigh.
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