Seriously.
What's the point? Why am I even trying?
The whole job thing's probably not going to work out even if I want it to. My dad clearly doesn't approve of my attempt to get said job, too. Mom just smiles and nods when I talk about trying to get that job, but that really doesn't mean much anymore. She rarely actually pays attention to what I say these days. I just feel like a freeloader when I'm at home. I want to help out. I want to do something that will make a difference in our lives. I want things to get better. They won't admit things are as bad as they are (and they're not, at least in comparison to last year), but I've seen my mom cry when no one's around, and all dad ever does is sleep because he's depressed. Laura's just a nutcase, and now we have eight puppies to feed on top of three large dogs and four household residents.
I put in over fifty job apps last summer, and I didn't receive a single callback. This is the first job offer I've ever had. It's the first time anyone's ever come up to me and asked, "Have you ever considered getting a job here? I need an assistant. You should submit a resume." I just want to help. Is that so bad?
The "get straight As" thing is not going to work out, either, but not because of biology class; it's not going to work out because of my writing class. My writing class. I don't understand why I keep getting such horrible grades on my papers. All I can think of is that it's the assistant grading them, rather than the teacher who seemingly loves my writing style. I just--I'm so upset about this because I have scholarships that fucking depend on straight As. They aren't worth much, but I do like receiving them. Every little bit of funding helps.
I feel sick because of my antibiotics--or maybe because of the three other new medicines they put me on when I went to the doctor earlier this week.
God, I don't even care. I'm just so tired all the time. I'm not happy unless I see Sarah or Lisa because they're really the only ones I ever see anymore, and they don't even live around here. I want to visit people, but I don't have the gas money. Hell, I'll probably shut my new cell phone off near the end of May just because I really can't afford it if I don't get a job soon.
Seriously, why do I even bother with life? I really just wonder what it would be like if I didn't exist at times. Would my parents be happier? Would my siblings and friends be happier? There would be more food to go around, one less person to take care of. My parents could have what little money I have and make it through a few more bills. Without me, there probably wouldn't be that horrible, awful cloud of bad luck hovering over our house all the time, and maybe someone would fucking buy it. Everything would be solved for at least a little while if that happened. Agh. I hate this.
The whole job thing's probably not going to work out even if I want it to. My dad clearly doesn't approve of my attempt to get said job, too. Mom just smiles and nods when I talk about trying to get that job, but that really doesn't mean much anymore. She rarely actually pays attention to what I say these days. I just feel like a freeloader when I'm at home. I want to help out. I want to do something that will make a difference in our lives. I want things to get better. They won't admit things are as bad as they are (and they're not, at least in comparison to last year), but I've seen my mom cry when no one's around, and all dad ever does is sleep because he's depressed. Laura's just a nutcase, and now we have eight puppies to feed on top of three large dogs and four household residents.
I put in over fifty job apps last summer, and I didn't receive a single callback. This is the first job offer I've ever had. It's the first time anyone's ever come up to me and asked, "Have you ever considered getting a job here? I need an assistant. You should submit a resume." I just want to help. Is that so bad?
The "get straight As" thing is not going to work out, either, but not because of biology class; it's not going to work out because of my writing class. My writing class. I don't understand why I keep getting such horrible grades on my papers. All I can think of is that it's the assistant grading them, rather than the teacher who seemingly loves my writing style. I just--I'm so upset about this because I have scholarships that fucking depend on straight As. They aren't worth much, but I do like receiving them. Every little bit of funding helps.
I feel sick because of my antibiotics--or maybe because of the three other new medicines they put me on when I went to the doctor earlier this week.
God, I don't even care. I'm just so tired all the time. I'm not happy unless I see Sarah or Lisa because they're really the only ones I ever see anymore, and they don't even live around here. I want to visit people, but I don't have the gas money. Hell, I'll probably shut my new cell phone off near the end of May just because I really can't afford it if I don't get a job soon.
Seriously, why do I even bother with life? I really just wonder what it would be like if I didn't exist at times. Would my parents be happier? Would my siblings and friends be happier? There would be more food to go around, one less person to take care of. My parents could have what little money I have and make it through a few more bills. Without me, there probably wouldn't be that horrible, awful cloud of bad luck hovering over our house all the time, and maybe someone would fucking buy it. Everything would be solved for at least a little while if that happened. Agh. I hate this.