I'm having a pity party. If you don't like it, fuck off.

So, I have really not been well mentally for the past few days. I don't know what's wrong with me. You ever get those times where you feel the whole world is against you? Yeah--that. And I'm so fucking depressed. It's ridiculous.

And I'm angry. I feel as if I could punch anything that gets in front of me. But then I'd cry after I did it. I dunno--I'm just a mess.

I think it's this job. And I think I need a vacation. Scratch that--I KNOW I need a vacation. But apparently I'm a loser and no one wants to go on vacation with me. Their excuses is that they have no money or time off from work or that they're too busy, but for some reason, I think that's bullshit. They just don't want to go with ME in particular, but they're too afraid to tell me. Funny--I always thought I was pretty fun to be around, especially in a foreign place. But it's really getting to me. I don't know why. Normally, I'm a "let it go" kind of gal. But I can't let this go.

Whatever. I'll go somewhere on my own. Yeah, it'll be more expensive and probably less fun, but I'll at least be away from here. Besides, I always make friends wherever I go, despite the way this post sounds! :)

And this job is driving me to drink. I've decided that I'm going to keep a flask at work and wait and see how long it takes before I get fired for having the smell of alcohol on my breath. Because alcohol is going to be the only way that I'm not going to go completely nuts at this joint. Really. I truly believe people who work by themselves in morgues have a better time at work than I do. And yet the job market sucks and there's nothing out there. Believe me, I'm looking.

So that's all I got. I don't really vent to people so I'm venting in writing with complete disregard for who reads it. It's my pity party. If you don't like it, go to the next blog.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go punch a wall or two, have myself a good cry, and go to bed at the reasonable hour of 7 pm. Ciao.