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scoff wrote:
This thread turns 10 this year. 10! If it'd been a baby, it woulda been in fourth grade.
I've changed a whole lot during these past ten years. I mean, of course I have - it's been a decade. And I've gotten older. A lot older. I was 19. Now I'm about to turn 29. Then, a teenager still. Now, nearly 30. I've become a lot less bitter. And a whole lot more bitter. I don't know. I don't feel that crippling insecurity anymore. And I don't feel like I have to, or even necessarily want to, be loved. I mean, by a man. I'm sick of 'em. All I want now is a small house of my own where I can live with my kids and my cats, and only with my kids and my cats. I want to grow potatoes and tomatoes and have little chickens that lay eggs. I want to be 100% in control of my own economy, because I'd have no one who leeched on me. The kids don't count. They're little, and I made them. It's my job and responsibility to make sure they're safe and have everything they need.
I study part time. I'm thinking about doing it full time. I don't know, going to uni in your 30s might be crazy, but I'm sick of my work schedule and the only secure way to change that is by getting a proper education. I could work for social services. You know, with kids. Or maybe I could be a manager in elderly care. Or something. I don't know. Perhaps time will tell? I could work part time while completing my studies. Also I want another baby. I want four kids. I really, really, really want four kids.
Almost ten years ago, I met N. And I was stupid. And then I thought I'd learned, but six years ago I met C and it was the same thing all over again. It is the same thing all over again. Again and again and again and again. And I need to leave. But the kids... I need to take the kids with me. This shit is a hellofa lot harder.
This thread turns 10 this year. 10! If it'd been a baby, it woulda been in fourth grade.
I've changed a whole lot during these past ten years. I mean, of course I have - it's been a decade. And I've gotten older. A lot older. I was 19. Now I'm about to turn 29. Then, a teenager still. Now, nearly 30. I've become a lot less bitter. And a whole lot more bitter. I don't know. I don't feel that crippling insecurity anymore. And I don't feel like I have to, or even necessarily want to, be loved. I mean, by a man. I'm sick of 'em. All I want now is a small house of my own where I can live with my kids and my cats, and only with my kids and my cats. I want to grow potatoes and tomatoes and have little chickens that lay eggs. I want to be 100% in control of my own economy, because I'd have no one who leeched on me. The kids don't count. They're little, and I made them. It's my job and responsibility to make sure they're safe and have everything they need.
I study part time. I'm thinking about doing it full time. I don't know, going to uni in your 30s might be crazy, but I'm sick of my work schedule and the only secure way to change that is by getting a proper education. I could work for social services. You know, with kids. Or maybe I could be a manager in elderly care. Or something. I don't know. Perhaps time will tell? I could work part time while completing my studies. Also I want another baby. I want four kids. I really, really, really want four kids.
Almost ten years ago, I met N. And I was stupid. And then I thought I'd learned, but six years ago I met C and it was the same thing all over again. It is the same thing all over again. Again and again and again and again. And I need to leave. But the kids... I need to take the kids with me. This shit is a hellofa lot harder.
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