I don’t know which is more appropriate at the moment. Both, I guess…
I haven’t posted all weekend. I’ve been around… just not posting. First I thought maybe I had nothing to say but I’m not sure that’s true. I’ve got plenty on my mind.
Colorful language follows.
I’ve been avoiding talking about something because it’s stressing me out so much. It’s not, like, life-altering. But to me, it’s a big fat punch in the face. And I’m pretty tired of those. Seriously. I’m all set. Does anyone hear me? Life… you fucker? Listen to me, dammit!
There’s a park near my home. Though it’s illegal after dark, kids hang out there at night sometimes. Whatever… they don’t bother us. I was a teenager once, too. But… a few weeks ago, I went outside my house one morning and walked down the driveway to retrieve the empty recycle bucket from the street. And when I turned around, I noticed that some fucker hit my car. Right in my fucking driveway! No note… no responsibility taken… nothing.
I’m going to need a second book. This one’s full…
I am finally bringing the car in today to get it fixed. The problem is… since I have no idea exactly which dumb fuck hit my car, I have to pay my insurance deductible. So… here I am… unemployed… in a constant state of worry and panic over fucking money… and I have to dish out $500. Because some assface hit my car.
I guess the powers that be (if there fucking are any and if so, hey – bite me!) have decided that my life wasn’t sucking enough with the money/lack of job stress/anxiety/panic. Nope. ‘They‘ had to throw more crap at me.
I don’t know what I did to deserve this. Not just this one thing… but all of the things. One after the other. The hits just keep coming. How much more can I possibly handle? I’m barely handling what I’ve already got.
©2017 what sandra thinks