Well. Fuck this.

OK. so I like to think of myself as a pretty well adjusted, independent woman. But sometimes, as much as it is a pain in my ass, and as much as I like to think I can do literally everything on my own, the sad reality of it is that I can’t. Sooner or later I’m going to have to rely on a person or group of people to get something done.

Now, when I ask for something (once in a fucking blue moon), I have some expectation that the person I am asking is going to take into consideration that; a) it’s probably pretty important to me and b) I’m not a raving fucking lunatic so chances are, it’ll be pretty pissing doable. However. For some un-fucking-fathomable reason, people decide that it’s ok to just go “yeah, yeah. I’ll do that thing” or “sure, I’ll be there” AND THEN NOT DO THE THING. 

Why. WHY in the hell would anyone be such a festering dickwad as to commit to something and then just decide that whatever it is, is much less important than some benign shit that they decide to do instead, which, lets be honest, given the kinds of people who pull this shit, is likely to be sitting down staring at a blank wall, with less than nothing going through what is likely to be a fraction of a brain cell.

If you do this; Fuck You. You’ve made a conscious decision to let someone down, and you deserve for no one to ever say yes to whatever shit you want them to do. Fuck you, Fuck off, Fuck this.


 

A Sad post; because my negative emotions are not limited to anger.

Most people have emotions. I’m almost sure I’m one of these people, but it seems like pretty much the only emotion I actually notice is sadness. It’s the one that puts it’s little tentacle up, and says “hello“.

I hear people talk about their depression and how they wake up and they just feel heavier, or more tired or just not right. I don’t know if that’s how it works for me, I don’t know how to identify it. For everyone else, even though the experience might be foggy, they’re still sure it’s happening.

I’ve entertained the thought that I might be bipolar. If I have a feeling, it tends to be very sad, and sometimes I get really excited about life. But most of the time there’s a whole lot of nothing. Maybe I don’t have the normal range of emotions, I don’t know if I’m depressed, and I don’t know if there’s even anything going on, I might just be a normal person who gets a bit sad sometimes.

I do know that it stops me from functioning at my already-inhibited level. I can barely feed myself, my house doesn’t get cleaned, it’s a miracle my cat is still alive. But I don’t know if that’s enough to call it anything. I don’t want to complain about feeling tired or unmotivated. I don’t want to tell people that no, I don’t want to hang out, because it won’t be fun, because nothing is anymore. I’m not part of the self-harm club, but I will say one thing about life; it continues, and I’m not sure how much I like that.

Maybe I should talk about it. It would be nice if I had a proper family. It would probably also be nice to be the kind of person who feels ok to just ask a friend over if I’m feeling a bit shite. But it’s my faultI can’t expect people to read minds, so why should I bother feeling alone when I don’t ask anyone to be there?

Who knows, I’ll probably feel fine tomorrow.


 

People who are Dicks; The General Public: Part 1

To the people who have, for some stupid fucking reason, attached speakers to the front of their cars and or bicycles; Why. The. Fuck. Do you honestly think that blaring your music out the front of your vehicle is going to make it sound any better? And do you think the rest of us want to hear it? I couldn’t give two shits if you’re blasting rap or fucking Enya, I don’t want to hear it. Especially not in the middle of the night. You’re a dick.

I could write an entire essay on dicks on the bus but this one is for people with bags. Sure, you can take a seat, and sure, you can carry a bag with you, but if the bus is full, then why is your bag taking up an entire seat next to you? I would get it if it was a massive bag, but then I would also question why it isn’t in that little area where you put things like suitcases. But a little tote bag? a whole seat? I’ve seen one girl, sat on an aisle seat, decide to take up the seat across the aisle from her. WHY. You’re a dick.

To people who sit in the middle of benches. What’s your aim here? Do you want to inconvenience people who are looking for a spot to rest, eat lunch or just sit and look at whatever shit you’re currently looking at? Or are you so fucking lonely that you’ve placed yourself in a position where, should someone choose to sit down, they’re so needlessly close to you that you can probably figure out the exact ingredients their breakfast was made of just be the smell of their breath? Either way, this behaviour screams “I am the centre of the universe and also super important“. You’re a dick.


 

Well. This blog exists.

I was going to spare you the explanation as to what exactly this is and, well, why. Since this blog is here purely for myself and no one else, I didn’t think it would be necessary. But hey, I guess I’m a private exhibitionist. It’s probably why I enjoy living by myself, so I can walk around naked in the privacy of my own home.

So this exists. Not because I think my ideas are great, and not because I think my words carry any particular meaning, but for one very simple reason; I do not want to start arguments. This is the space where I am going to put all of those facebook posts that never became facebook posts, and those conversations I never started. Because to put it plainly these are my opinions and arguments about them are straight up unnecessary. Basically, this is a place for me to gripe, without other people telling me I’m whingeing.

The name I can tell you, is based on a very good piece of advice I was given when I was very young; “What other people think of me is none of my business“. In a way I live by this. So, with that in mind; if, by whatever miniscule chance, you come across this blog, and you have been offended by anything I have expressed, kindly, fuck off. Other people’s opinions are their problems, so my opinions? my problem.

Peace.