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shame on me
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scoff wrote:
2017 GOALS (cos I haven't yet):
- Get my drivers license.
- Get a job.
- Graduate.
- Get a cat.
- Lose 5 kg. 
well i got a job n a cat n i graduated at least
oh n the year has like 3 months left so i can probably lose that weight n get that license too
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How much can two people fight before everything goes to hell? I'm at my wits end and I don't know what to do. I'm sad, I'm miserable, I'm completely lost. I don't want things to end, even thinking about it breaks my heart in a million pieces and I know it's cliché but I don't think there's anyone else out there for me. Even if there was, I wouldn't want them.
I wish I could turn myself inside out, I wish I knew what I'm doing that's so wrong, I wish I was a better person, a much better person, the perfect person, because things being the way they are has me devastated, miserable, empty, so, so, so, so sad. 

I'm scared every day. I'm scared I'll do something, say something, that will completely ruin it all. It's my worst nightmare, and right now I feel like I'm living it. No, I don't want to go away, I don't want to go be someplace else. I want to solve things, talk about things, want us to be happy.

And I just don't know how.
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It's two people walking on eggshells because none wants to upset the other. People can't live like that.

Gotta find a way.
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And I fit the bill:
drinking alone and in secrecy
alcohol cravings
withdrawal symptoms
mood swings
drinking in the morning
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"Have you ever cried because you couldn't have an alcoholic beverage?"
Yes. I've even dreamt I do for the past four years, over and over again.
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What is this life anyway? 
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So it's, like, I gotta go to work. I gotta go to work and I gotta sit there and be bored and try to sell some stupid vitamins to old people who are extremely suspicious - some are gross - and I get paid like nothing at all for it. I did some calculations, and I could never afford being alive if I had to pay more bills. 
And then, once I get home, I have to make dinner - that is, if he won't. I don't want him to, though, because I'm always the one who has to clean up the kitchen, and I don't really know what he's doing when he's cooking, but once he's done, the floor needs to be both vacuumed and swabbed, and the stove has to be cleaned with fucking steel wool. I ask why, and he's like "because it gets messy when you make schnitzels", but it's like... no, dude, it doesn't. Not when I do it. You know? I don't get it.
And this morning I was apparently trying to start a fight or act provocative again because I mentioned Ingvar Kamprad used to be a nazi, and he was like "nazis are good", and I was like, you know, "no, fuck that!". And I'm trying to make him understand that I don't like it when he's making fun of women, and I don't like it when he says poor people just get what they deserve, and I don't like it when he's acting all racist, right? But no, I'm the mean one, because I call myself a feminist and I'm very left-leaning. And I mean, it has me thinking, right? Because I want kids. I want kids, but I want my kids growing up with the same values that I did: that everyone's the same, and that everyone matters just as much, no matter their gender, sexuality, socioeconomic status, ethnicity, religion, and so on, and so forth. I don't want a kid and then that kid grows up to hate the poor and look down on women and shit, right? That's my biggest nightmare. I mean, look at my brothers. I've got four biological brothers, raised alone by our mom, and none of them would ever dream about being racist, sexist or hating the poor. That's nice, that's something I'm proud of. My brothers are cool. The 12-year-old even beat a guy in his class up for calling a girl in their class a "muslim whore who should go back to her country". God, I love my brother. He kicks ass. 
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That same brother, then aged nine, actually promised me he'd always be a feminist because women aren't being treated fairly in society.
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What is life anyway? Some days, I think I want to die. 
And then I get told I'm being a pain in the ass and I'm kicking on people who are already lying down, and what the fuck not. Because I feel bad, because I can't handle life. Because I just sit down and I cry for two hours straight because I'm too tired to even breathe, and my entire body's aching like hell, and I don't know what to do anymore. 
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It's funny, because I'm good at pretending. I mean, I'm real good at it. You could send me to a shrink and he wouldn't see through me. I smile, laugh some, twirl my hair. 
I don't know
I'm alright, I'm great

Fuckall, I don't know, you know? It's like... nothing matters anymore. I drank a box of wine last night and I haven't done that in ages. I think it worked, though, because I stopped crying. 

I'm a pain in the ass. I think that maybe I don't give a shit about that anymore. I think that if people thinks I'm that bad, perhaps they need to get out. Away from me
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Today I actually am feeling quite alright so far. Having my breakfast beer, watching Mad Men, sitting on here while my boyfriend's playing video games in the living room.
I like watching tv and drinking beer in bed. Maybe that's a bad thing. 
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Should I have set some goals for 2018, too? Fuck, I missed almost all of them from last year. I got a job and I graduated, but that's pretty much it. I also got not one, but two cats.

So maybe...

2018 GOALS:
* get real help
* maintain my job
* not being dumped due to being a pain in the fucking ass
* travel someplace where I've never been
* get my license
* find something i want to do with my life
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I like to think about life sometimes. The way it works, the way things go, you know? All that stuff. And it gets me thinking, because here I am, working a job I despise, trying to make some money so I can pay for myself, and none of it really matters. I don’t know what happened yesterday - I had theee beers and two puffs of weed, and I felt as if though I’d taken e. I haven’t done that in a long time and I won’t again, because it makes me puke, but I got the good feels, right? And so did he. We just sat on the couch talking, and he said it doesn’t matter if I have money or not, because he’ll pay. I don’t want him to have to pay. I want to make my own money, so I am. He said we should redo the kitchen and I get to decide everything and he builds and he pays. It feels wrong, he probably heard the neighbor and I talking last weekend. I said I don’t feel like none of this is mine, and so now he’s concerned. Not the neighbor, naturally, but bf is. It’s like he constantly thinks I’m gonna pack up and leave, and I’m mean enough to threaten to do so while I’m mad. I wouldn’t do it, though. I never would. 

I winder id this is the rest of my life. A friend once told me that my life, that stuff only happens in the movies. People don’t drink wine alone in the tub unless it’s in a tragic way, he said, but I wasn’t tragic. I am actually quite tragic. 
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I feel scared and sick and weak and and and and and and and

I miss him so much and I haven't even been away for 24 hours yet. I read old threads from two months ago when everything was going straight to fucking hell, and now I'm scared, because everything was what it always was, and then I came home from work, and he said "this isn't working" and I just fucking died. Right there, right then, I died. 
And he's starting to get annoyed again, with everything and anything that I do or don't do. I need to do something. Fuck, I need to do something. 
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I mean, c'mon, am I really that bad? Why does he think I'm that bad? 
I'm confused, and I'm sad, and I've lost the ability to think, plan, focus, do anything... Started school today and I really have no fucking clue what I'm doing.

I feel alright, tho, I really do.
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