Defective . . .

That’s what I must be.  Defective.  Defective at friendships, defective at relationships, defective at jobs . . .

Yet largely, I feel no urge to explain myself on these "pages," I’ll call them.  Because so often, you can go to any diary on here and it’s just the same old slop, different day.

"Oh, my life is so horrible!"

"He treats me so horrible, but I love him so much!"

"Oh, I can’t help [place your own atrocity in here], you people just don’t understand my life!"

It’s all a bunch of B.S.  Because in so many ways, everyone can understand what everyone else is going through because while it may not be in the same way, they’ve been there, too.  But no one wants to have someone truly understand them, because if someone actually does, it means they aren’t original.  Their pain isn’t as poignant as it "should" be, because someone else has been there, too.

I’ve become a Hell of a lot more bitter since moving out here.  And I’m realizing how easy the people have it who aren’t out on their own.  I’m not gonna say that they don’t have their share of problems, but especially one or two I can think of, they have no real idea of what being an adult means, since they’re still living under Mommy and Daddy’s roof.

Work . . . which is what actually spurred me to write this entry . . . sucks.  Depending on results I get tomorrow, I’m more than likely leaving the Domino’s out here.  Maybe I’ll go into it later, but suffice it to say, I’ve had enough.  I went from almost sixty hour weeks and being called the saving grace of that store, to being told today that the assistant manager refuses to close with me anymore and doesn’t want me as a late driver, so I’m lucky if I’d get twenty hours this week, assuming I was gonna work it.  Which, if things go well tomorrow, I’m not going to.  They have me in as just a rush driver, so it’s not like I’d even be missed . . .

I can feel myself pulling slowly away from everyone I cared about.  Or care about.  And it’s not entirely one-sided.  I don’t feel that people are taking the effort to talk to me anymore, either.  I admit, the last time I called her was about a month ago, but you know, all the times I’ve left a message on Dolly’s machine, she’s never called me back?  And I try to give her the number each time I call.  I know that people are busy.  We’re "adults" in the "adult world" now, and we don’t have as much time to hang out, or talk, or write as we did or would have in high school.  But . . . it just seems to me that a bigger effort is always made for other people than for me.

I find myself not wanting to help others anymore, either.  During my senior year, Mike made me want to honestly give myself to others, be available for advice to give, be a shoulder to cry on, etc.  But lately, I’m realizing that I shy away from others’ problems.  When I get involved, I invest too much of myself personally, and inevitably when it’s over for better or for worse, I’m forgotten.  Left behind.  With a pile of memories and questions with no answers.

I’m tired of that happening and scared of what it will do to me, should it happen again.  That’s why while yes, Rob does have his share of problems, I can handle his.  He doesn’t make them someone else’s burdens.  That’s why I’ve told him repeatedly that his epilepsy is a cakewalk compared to everything I faced with Mike.  His epilepsy is his own.  And though he definitely does need the help after he has a seizure, especially a grand mal, (he really has no choice in the matter,) he doesn’t like having to accept it.  He wants to face this thing head-on, on his own.  That mindset is sometimes to his detriment, but still.  He does tell me if something’s wrong, but while he hopes I can, he doesn’t automatically expect me to fix it.  That’s what makes me able to deal with it.

I’m shying away from the people who need the constant support and a solid foundation from someone else.  I find I just can’t do it.  To be completely honest, after the experiences I’ve had, I don’t want to do it.  I’m tired of being forgotten, or worse, blamed with no trace of anyone asking my side.  I’m just . . . tired.

Right now, I truly don’t see any meaning to my existence.  I know, I know, how can I be that upset just because I’m walking away/teetering(sp?) on the edge of being fired from a stupid pizza place?  Simple.  It was the one place I’ve worked where I figured ‘okay, as long as I do this stuff, and get the deliveries there in a good time, I won’t ever be fired.’  But now . . .  Now, I do have a definite possibility lined up for a job, but A) I wonder if it will give Rob and I enough money for rent, bills, food, and whatnot, and B) I honestly wonder if I can hold it down, even for the two and a half months more we’ll be here.

Cuz yeah, I’m coming back to New Jersey come August.  Hopefully, I’ll be able to come back to the New Jersey Domino’s, where tips are actually good.  Scratch that.  Where tips are actually good.  You know, as opposed to getting three deliveries in a row where the person literally hands you exact change!  Then others where the person gives you fourteen for a thirteen-and-change order, and tells you not to worry about giving them back the coins!  I admit, yeah, I’ve gotten some pretty good tips here, like a ten dollar one on Saturday night, but the average tip here is anywhere from fifty cents to a dollar.  The average tip in New Jersey is three to four dollars.

::Sighs::  I just plain don’t want to work anymore.  I wish I could stop time and go back to being a kid, when I didn’t have to worry about bills and deadlines and employment and all this other B.S.

Heh . . . I suppose I should be glad I have next to no friends.  At least with so few who, right now, are so far away, I’m not dealing with a bunch of high school-ish drama from a bunch of backstabbers-disguised-as-friends to add to the stresses I’m already facing.

I suppose I’ll stop the rant now.  Btw, the new background is a picture of Drizzt.