Several people today have asking me, as a polite gesture, how I’m doing… I pointedly ignore their question, knowing they don’t really care, and move on immediately to a different matter.
I am quite literally THISCLOSE to losing it today. I am PMS’ing and EVERY. LITTLE. TINY. THING. Is setting me off.
I want to cry. Somewhere inside of me though, I refuse to let myself cry. Somehow, that would be admitting that this place, these people have pushed me to tears. So, I’m stubbornly refusing to cry.
But I can still feel the tears… They’re right on the surface, waiting like flood waters to reach the top and come rushing out.
I want to admit it, free and clear. No judgments, no criticisms. Here, inmy space, I want to admit that I hate this place. I loathe everything about it.
I hate the weather, and how it makes it impossible to have a good hair day. I hate the traffic, and all the fucking cars, all the fucking time. They drive like goddamn retards around here, ensuring that if I make it home alive each day, it’s a goddamn miracle. I hate that it takes way too goddamn long to get anywhere in this hell hole. I hate the people. They’re all… So self-absorbed. No one ever asks me how I’m doing, what’s going on in my life. But they’re all so willing to talk over me, and complain about their lives and their issues.
But I hate most that it’s not home. No friends to give me a hug at the end of a hard day. No one to go to the bar with. The bar… My friendly, neighborhood bar isn’t here either. Nor is anything like it.
Nor is my awesome job, that I left. That paid well. That didn’t ever for one single day take me for granted.
This what I was in the middle of saying to Ed, when I realized there was a tear rolling down my cheek. Only when safe, only to my best friend, without me even allowing it to come out.