Forty-Two and other such nonsense

Hi guys.

You're gonna get spoiled, all these not-Wednesday posts I keep doing.

So yeah, hi.

I don't know what keeps you guys coming back.  I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm super grateful for it, certainly, but I just don't understand.

I'm not having the absolute best of days.  Don't get me wrong, it ended very well (well...prior to Roommate's dogs being fucking OBNOXIOUS with their incessant WHINING.  Seriously.  You'd think they were going to be left alone forever the way they carry on.), but it has not been a fantastic day.

I just...I fucked up at work.  And apparently I've been fucking up but no one bothered to let me know until today when they realized it was happening.  I honestly didn't know I was doing anything wrong, but because I was doing something wrong, a customer was unhappy, and me, being the people pleaser that I am (recovering? Haha, yeah THAT'S what we're calling it) was then put into the position of having EVERYONE upset with me.  And then I had to try and make it better without someone going home upset.

So guess who cried on her way home from work today?  Yeah...I mean, luckily it's been a while, but I just...

It's days like today where I go "Oh duh! That's why no one sticks around/wants me to stick around!"

And it's not a healthy attitude, no, but at the same time, I'm still crying in my car after work, and I just...

And I don't...I don't feel comfortable unloading on people because it eventually (inevitably) will deteriorate into me just mostly feeling sorry for myself.  And no one wants to listen to that when they have their own, much bigger, more important issues to deal with.

I mean, you guys only get it because I treat blogs and the internet like my diary.  Which possibly isn't technically safe, but I mean it is what it is.  Eso si que es.  (which is SOCKS, by the way.  Thank you internet).

But in all honesty, I keep my feelings stuffed under a rock in my subconscious until something disturbs the rock, (like today) and I end up just not being able to can anymore.  And I'd love to be able to stop, but that's just not how I work.  It's never been how I've worked.  I don't even think anything could fix the way I work.  And it's fine.  It is, until it isn't and then it's done, and gone, and I shove everything back under the rock (I'm going to call it the Rock of Self Loathing because that sounds super awesome, like some genre of music or band or something) and pretend like my inferiority complex isn't as large as it is, and that my paranoia and social anxieties are just made up, and that everything is going to be hunky-dory as long as I just don't move the Rock.

Again, not healthy, but hey, what can you do?  And, after all, I do end up making it out okay in the end.  I just...I apparently have abandonment issues I don't really address very often, and when I do it's in tears, after something bad happens that's completely unrelated, usually in the car.

Whatever, whatever, I do what I want.

I'm gonna go now.  This...wasn't the original plan for this post, but...well...
S-O-C-K-S

Until Next Time, Dear Readers,
Me