Be a Hustler
*Warning: This post contains explicit content known to the state of California to be called 'emo', 'whining', 'complaining', and/or a waste of time. Studies show reading the content that is to follow may cause headache, dizziness, and/or an extreme urge to kick the shit out of the author of this page. Please read responsibly.*
Date: 8/23/2005 3:42:51 PM ( 16 y ) ... viewed 2181 times
I haven't been this scared
In a long time
and I'm so unprepared
So here's your Valentine
Boquet of clumsy words
a simple melody
This world's an ugly place,
but you're so beautiful...
Before I continue, I post a farewarning to everyone.. this post does contain the use of swear words, and I will be doing some massive self-degredation and a lot of complaining. I'm sorry, I try to please a lot of people, I do have patience and understanding, and I try to make a good point to have manners and be generous, but for today I'd like to vent in my journal. Viewer discretion is advised from here on out, please click out now if you don't wish to read any further. Thank you.
Why can't I cry? The tears are there, but they won't come, but inside my head, my body, I'm SCREAMING even though I sit so silently in this chair, my breathing lost amongst the tapping of the keyboard.
There's so much I want to yell and cry about, about it's 'so unfair' and that I'm gonna fail and I have no will.
Today I called Cingular and found out I have more bills than I can handle. Someone very nice was going to pay for them, but when he found out the price, he wisely stepped down. It's not his fault, I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up that he'd take care of it. I just hate money. I've struggled so long for it, and I still have nothing. In fact, I have -1,500.
I miss my daddy and my brother. I miss having a home to call my own. A lot of my friends keep telling me to work for it, but I'm trying.. this is so frustrating. They warn me not to go back to my mother, because she can hardly take care of herself. I hate this, I wish suicide was so simple. I dream of taking a knife and just start slashing away at myself, as if the blood will drown out the problems and let the screaming rip through my throat and echo.
I hate being fat, I hate being ill, I hate how my ex-boyfriend treats my like a show-pony and complete shit, and I hate being so ugly and telling myself that I'm f***ing ugly.
I hate this eating disorder, I hate being worried constantly that I'm going to be kicked out, I hate being in debt, I hate not being able to talk to the animals or get better overnight, I hate being incoherent and afraid, I hate knowing I have to go back to work eventually because I worked such long, long nights and hard hours.
I hate the excuses I make because I feel so weak and sick, I hate the sounds of the planes over this house because they remind me of chemtrails, I hate the scary nightmares, I dislike being inside all day even though I want to go out but I feel as if I can't because of my stomach, and I HATE MYSELF.
... but what is so odd, is that the times I'm alone and I think about how difficult life is, I smile, because life really is beautiful. Our souls, our ability to connect with our spirit and be with the earth, is beautiful, and I am thankful to be apart of it.
My boss once told me to be a hustler. You won't get anywhere in this world unless you hustle. Give them what you got, strut your stuff, and appeal.
I hate doing it, though I do.. because I worry about what people think of me.. I crave acceptance, I'd like to meet a person one time and leave with them having a good thought about me.. I hate when people hate me.. I hate caring so damn much...
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