Fuck

So I'm sitting in my fucking apartment having just gone on stress leave from my job. My wonderful job. I don't really have much to say about it except it's a callcenter and when my life is loaded full of shit I can only take so much extra from work. I want a job where I go and I work and then go home. Not one where I get yelled at by some douchebag who's tv is on the fritz or some bitch who can't use a computer. I used to be amazing at dealing with that shit but since going on antipsychotics I'm not. Who would have thought that psychosis would make me good at my job. So I'm off for two weeks and then I go back. I fully intend on going back and hope I can make things work but if I can't then I'll have to get by and look for work elsewhere. I don't usually think of leaving my job but since they put me on disciplinary action level 2 for being absent with a doctors note things have changed.

Oh I forgot to mention: Rage Mania. Been having that all day and it's about as fun as shooting yourself in the eye with a nailgun repeatedly. I was going to stay up and work on my writing but thanks to rage mania I'm probably just going to down some liquor and go to sleep because I can't deal with this feeling.

This is my life, I'm poor and at risk of losing my job. I wouldn't give a fuck normally but I have a cat who isn't allowed to live with y parents if I were to move back and there is no way in fucking hell that I am being seperated from Artemis. You would have to pry him from my cold dead hands to seperate us, or I his.

Anyway life sucks and I'm out.

Daddy Issues

Who would of thought after all these years I'd still have daddy issues. and who would have thought that when I'm this stage in transition and a spokesperson on the topic that I'd still cry over the years I lost. I would give anything to go back and live a teenager as a female The way it was supposed to be. I wish I could erase all the memories of fights at school and at home. I wish that I could have been close to my father and not so distant, someone who could have come to the hospital with me and who would check up on me. but I didn't have that, and I don't have that.

I wish I could be adopted. Take on a second father and get a second chance at what I desire. Someone who would scold me if I did poorly in school, and praise me for doing well. Someone who would spend time just being close to me in a maternal fashion. I wish with all my heart, and I know if I keep wishing that it won't happen. I'm too old and I'm a burden that no one would willingly take on. As I write this I sit with a razorblade in front of me, I slid it across my wrist a few times but it just didn't cut... I'm too gentle. I'll probably use a paperclip. As these memories and wishes are scars upon my mind so too will they be scars on my body. I'll be going to work in bandages again. I'll be harassed for it as usual. and people will ask what happened. I'm past the point of hiding bandages. I'm sick of suffering inside alone.

It's amusing how I help so many people in the community, and I'm such an activist yet I'm so riddled with my own issues. I do everything to help others but recieve none in return.

I' tired. I' going to put on some music, cut, and sleep... what a stereotype, i should take y medication, too bad it won't kick in before I do some damage.

Edit ** I did it, I cut with a razor blade, I've tried so many times and stopped out of fear but I did it... I just had to press harder and try not to tremble. It's beautiful, just what I deserve. This is the punishment I get for living the way I did. Good job Alice you worthless piece of shit! Wonder what else you can do to yourself while we're at it.