The realisation of what a fucking disappointment to my family I am has come as quite a surprise (which goes to show how thick I am!). I’ve been thinking of changing my name and running away to be a lazy drain on society some place else and then at least my family can say: “Oh Karen? She finally got a job and had to move to Switzerland, probably wont here from her again. Oh well, more tea?”
When your family start to really criticize you, you know you’ve fucked up big time so when I told my dad about how I got a letter saying if a company doesn’t get back to me in a few weeks I was unsuccessful and his reply was that I should give up and go to college my thoughts changed from running away to grabbing some pills and turning on Coldplay. Fuck!
Christmas is only making it worse, people are buying me presents! They ask what I want and give me money to help me out and smile and tell me it’ll all get better when I just want to scream at them to stop being so stupid. I’ve been a lazy, no user my whole life so why would I change now?
Why I deserve to live I don’t know but I’m fucking terrified of dieing and don’t really plan on doing so any time soon but sometimes I can’t help thinking about what a horrible bitch I am. I’ve got all these nice things and I hate my life. I can’t even look someone in the eyes when I talk to them. I have to think before answering the question “what’s your name?”. I have a fear of being shouted at: all through school, my home life, even sitting in my aunt’s kitchen helping her make labels I’ve been terrified that they’ll yell at me and tell me to take off my shoe and throw it on the floor in front of everyone (I have issues!).
I always take these things personally. Every rejection is like getting slapped in the face, every time I never hear anything is like getting punched in the stomach and every time (the one time) I get an interview it’s like someone teasing me, knowing I’ll get my hopes up no matter how hard I try not to then beating the shit out of me for the fun of it.
Then once I get a job (ha ha ha) what happens? Nothing. I slave away for god knows how many years it’s gonna be until I keel over and two people come to my cheap funeral (and one of them thinks I’m Wilma Gardener). Nothing. I don’t even have an afterlife to believe in. We make up these stories to amuse ourselves, to make ourselves feel better, to scare little children into behaving…there might be a heaven (;)) there might not be, either way I’m fucked so why I care is beyond me but I do. For some strange reason I’m sitting in the middle of an existential angst that I don’t understand and it feels like I see the world clearer than everyone else because they seem to think we’re here for a reason and I think we evolved from apes and got too big for our own boots deciding that we’ll kill every other living thing on this planet or die trying.
I don’t try and save the environment or the Whale or Pandas because I expect other people to do it and that’s my problem. The main reason I don’t have job is me. If I really, really, really, really wanted a job I would have one by now but for months I sat and twiddled my thumbs expecting them to come to me and now that I’m actually trying I still look bad because everyone thinks I’m still messing around and not really trying. I see it when they look at me, they think I’m a waste of space and when people I love start to resent me it hurts but it hurts even more because I know I deserve it! I got special treatment for so long and now that it’s coming to an end I feel like if I don’t get a job soon I might seriously be on my way to live with my mum…and I wouldn’t even blame them although I would be surprised if she took me in with open arms.
I used to think it would be so easy. Going to school, making friends, getting good marks, getting a job but it’s not and it wasn’t. I hated every second of school when I was reminded of how alone I was in classes, how little I understood the work, how much I feared the teachers and the humiliation of being told off in front of everyone, how awkward and clumsy I was, how fat I was compared to all the other girls, how ugly, miserable and down right annoying everyone seemed to find me and how I always looked bad no matter if I tried or not so I stopped trying. I care about what people think so much that I’m scared to make an effort, I feel more self conscious going out in “nice” clothes that old tatty ones, I can’t wear make-up or look at myself in a mirror in public because I can imagine what people think: “Give it up your never going to be good looking.” “Heading for the circus are we?” “No amount of staring will change the fact that you’re a dog.” etc
I told you I have issues.
Personal ad reads: Must Love Dogs
Man: “Must love dogs, eh? Do you have a lot of pets?”
Woman: “None.”
Man: ???...(realisation dawns on him)
Man has left the conversation