things will be good because they have to be. because i am a good person. i do good for others, and i love, respect and help others, and they me. i’m very deserving. a trip to see a certain person that i love and long pensive bus rides gave massive prospective and laid the groundwork for lessons learned. i won’t be happy for the next four weeks, but i will be happy. i will write and work, and i will spend time doing what i need to do in order to make my happiness as easily accessible as possible. so yeah, things are good, i just need to beat off feelings of fleeting youth and opportunities leaving me and just deal with the fact that my father is a HUGE asshole, and i’ll be as right as rain. yay optimism. —if i weren’t completely flip flop with my attitude then i wouldn’t be myself.
at least in my mind this echos similar to the philosophy “can’t be with the one that you love, so love the one that you’re with” except with much more cynic authority and not really so much to do with love.
misery loves money, or more so the miserable love money…but to have it even more accurate, “the miserable need money”. this is to say that people are willing to put up with just about any circumstances in order to be economically productive, which includes taking on and fulfilling miserable or degrading jobs. of course, money is/has power. it is sometimes the key determinate to opinions, questions, needs and wants but it wields way too much power. i absolutely hate my dependency on it. i hate the necessary avenue of having to disposition myself in order to earn a paycheck by doing something that i quite literately could not give a rat’s ass about. and that makes me miserable. because of my need for money i am forced to give up an internship that i would have without a doubt enjoyed and also move away from twin sister. also, in order to do this job, i have to move back home, which to all of my distaste is crowded, junky, cluttered, dissipating, claustrophobic and reeling with egos and opinionated individuals. i have to give up so much for the all mighty dollar when it does absolutely nothing for me. it shrinks in value while the prices of goods heighten and it turns me into a materialistic fiend and a needy individual. america’s relationship with money reads like the diary of a battered person, with a vicious cycle of give and take with their abuser except no virtual means of escape. thanks a lot cruel money.
so aside from a job that i don’t want at home, working for my father, i am at a loss as far as options in which to earn money. So whack is this economy, i can’t even find work as a hotel maid. my optimistic plans for the summer are taking wicked turns for the worse and I’m beginning to stress because of it. -i can’t even sell my blood for money because i opted to get two tattoos earlier this year. long story short, i suck because i make terrible life, money, and whatever decisions. -i’m being so emo right now. boo me.