It’s so fucking hot in my apartment right now. Not even kidding, if I didn’t have this fan, I’d be in veritable Hell. Because it’s so damn hot in here, I’m on edge. More than you will ever know. It’s making my issues that I’m currently facing in my life that much more frustrating. Because all I have is time and the heat to help me think about it. Hey parents – if you’re going to put your kid in the corner to make them think about what they’ve done, put a heater nearby. Too far to reach, but close enough to make the little fucker sweat. I guarantee, the reason they are in that place will never be far from their mind. Granted, they’ll be thinking of reasons to kill you, but hey, it gets the job done. Right?
A few weeks ago, I had a working interview. Never been involved in anything like that. Ever. It was the best day I have had in months. Ever since leaving my job at the doctor’s office. I got a chance to prove myself. And I did! I proved myself so fucking hard. I showed that I was a quick learner. Got the the bases of their EMR system down so fast. It wasn’t nearly as complicated as the last monster I had to learn. Given a few more days with it, and some of the particulars of how they sort files, and I would have been rocking the shit out of that database. I got to walk home (yes, this would have been a job I could have walked to) feeling like I was on top of the world. They said they would get back with me about whether or not I had gotten the job. So, I waited. It had been a few days. I know how this game is played. You check in with the company who interviewed you. Show them that you are eager and wanting to be there. I called and asked to follow up with the lady who had conducted the interview. She wasn’t there, but the other person working the desk said she would pass along that I had called after asking for my number.
Satisfied that she would get back with me, and that I had this, I waited. A couple more days pass. Nothing. I call again. A little nervous. But it’s been a week. I figure this will be the last time I’ll have to do this. I call, and she’s out. Okay. They pass me to her voicemail. I am professional. State that I’m calling to follow up, see where things are at. Ask her to call me back. So many nerves going on. That whole day. She never calls back. Ever. I’m still waiting. I was told that I’d hear back. But nothing. I worked a whole fucking day there, and nothing! It was as rude as it is insulting. Way I figure it, if someone comes in and works a hard day for you, being put to the test of how they can function, then you are owed enough to be called back and told the truth. That office loved me! Every woman there (it was almost-exclusively women) said that they hoped to see me back there again, that I’d be working there soon when I left that day. I made employees and patients smile. I was at the top of my game. Sure, I faltered a bit with the phone stuff. I’m rusty. So sue me. But I got my groove back toward the end. And they wouldn’t even do my the courtesy of a call to tell me no.
I feel like shit, lately. All the time. I don’t wake up feeling good. I don’t go to sleep with it. I barely remember one day from another anymore. They all blend together into an incomprehensible mirage of days going by. But you know, I could live with that. Really, I could. Hell, we all get into a rut. I have no friends in this town anymore. The last one moved away. I have no personal life. Not very attractive and getting less so all the time. That’s not the thing that really gets to me. What gets to me is the fact that I’m supposed to be an adult! I’m supposed to be able to handle this. I went to college, for fuck’s sake! That was supposed to open doors! But no. I have to go back out to my parents and get money from them for my meds. I can’t afford anything. Not my meds. Not my rent. Nothing.
Worse still, I’m told that my parents aren’t faring that great, financially. The old man is looking to retire soon, and I’m hurting that chance. I’m putting strain on them. This wasn’t what I wanted! You think I like this?! You think I wanted to be in this situation?! Fuck no! I wanted to be rocking it. I wanted to be rocking this degree and doing the adult thing. And I would have, if I hadn’t left the doctor’s office I worked at. One stupid mistake. That’s all it took. One dumb, simple mistake. Now, I am fucked. My resume clearly is poison. I can’t land interviews. I can’t land anything. Even when I am given a chance to prove myself and rock it, that doesn’t mean anything. Shit, I don’t even get a fucking call back!
Then there is this fucking itch! You all know the itch that I’m talking about. It’s driving me nuts! Same with this fucking heat! Same with the fact that I can’t even get people who claim to be my friend to hit me back when I try and hit them up to do things. I am so furious. My anger is turning into an inferno. Makes sense that it happens in this heat. I have a fucking degree, and I can’t even get an interview for entry-level jobs. It’s gotten to the point where I figure that I might as well go back to retail for a while. But given some medical problems I have, I can’t work a job on my feet all day.
This is so fucking humiliating. I’m 27 years old, and I can’t manage my fucking life. I’m so angry. My self-loathing has NEVER been as bad as it is right now. My depression keeps going from bad to worse. And the only time when I get some reprieve from it and those fucking cowards won’t even call me to tell me that I wasn’t picked. Just to put my mind at ease.
Death is the only release I’ll ever get. But it can’t come soon enough. Men in my family are said to live forever. I could have a VERY long life ahead of me. The price of admission isn’t worth it. Now I just want to jump off a bridge. Bring an end to a very bad day. When I’m spoiling Game of Thrones for my mother, I tell her what characters are having a good or bad day. Way I see it, death is a good end to a bad day. Because that’s life. A series of bad days. With a few good ones sprinkled in just to make sure you never forget.
Until next time, a quote,
“Here’s the thing – life’s an endless series of train-wrecks, with only brief, commercial-like breaks of happiness.” – Deadpool