It's been an entire month since I've had even the slightest shred of brainpower to spend on writing something for myself. I hardly even know where to begin, but for right now? I have something I'd like to say to the world at large.
I work god damned hard. I design software, I write specs, I evaluate estimates, I travel, I write five page emails, I make two-hour conference calls. I help friends move, I bake wedding cakes, I bake birthday cakes, I cook up Thanksgiving dinner, I give advice, I'm a kick-ass personal shopper. I make reservations, I call airlines, I make payments, I empathize, I sympathize, I write entire god-damned books, and I can pull off a suit like nobody's business. I'm probably too open about a lot of things, and I know I'm a damn sight too trusting. And if you know me well enough, you can probably recognize the laugh I use when I'm trying to deflect attention from the fact that I'm really fucking heartbroken, and exhausted. And I've been feeling pretty heartbroken lately. I keep wondering what I'm doing wrong here, you know? What am I fucking up so badly? But you know what? I don't think I am doing something wrong. I fucking LOVE me and I love what I do and I love how I interact with my friends. And I would rather be me this way, and have a bunch of other fuckers not appreciate it, than be a fake and a liar. And if you don't like it, and if YOU don't like it, and if YOU don't like it EITHER, and if YOU don't like it, and if YOU don't fucking like it enough to even be a rational human being about it, and if YOU, universe, if YOU don't motherfucking like it enough that you think you have to make J.Lo take the stage at a concert right when I'm trying to get away from a jesus-fuck-horrible situation so instead I'm stuck in a lattice of screaming homo for one of the worst hours of my life, or you think you have to set my ex-boyfriend outside the bar, of all the motherfucking bars in all of the entire motherfucking city, to yell my name at me at the end of the first actual date I've had in I don't even know how god damned long, just so you can have something new to laugh at? Then FUCK. YOU. I've fucking HAD IT. And the fact that I've only been getting angrier and more wound up over the course of my mini four-day vacation (GASP I TOOK TWO DAYS OFF WORK) makes me even more upset because now I just wasted two perfectly good vacation days and I spent them STEWING OVER YOU AND YOU AND YOU and ALL OF THE YOUS CAN GO FUCK THEMSELVES. Especially the universe. THAT you can go fuck itself TWICE.