it gets harder sometimes to wait for the minute chance to be able to update.

my "car accident" knee (meaning the one with a scar on it) is hurting...i'm scared to go to work on the 18th because it'll have been one year.

i'm glad i have an early shift as opposed to a late one, that would've made it worse.

i still haven't seen the italian job. i'm kinda...pissed off at a few people. and disapointed in myself...and in...well everything.

i woke up at 8:30 this morning, and instead of actually getting up, i checked my email, crawled back into bed and went to sleep.

i suck ass.

i'm listening to music that'll make me cry...if i let it. i'm very DOWN right now but its a grumpy down...i'm upset i won't say aything about how i feel or how much i missed doing stuff this weekend. or how i won't say anything to my friends who decided at the last minute to go somewhere else.

i really need to move out.....and to vent.

it is time.

i hate how the minute i think things will go along one way i change my mind....that maybe i don't want to commit to that choice. not abandoning...its fear really. my gramma is pissing me off trying to tell me to quit revy/rona/whateverthefuckyoucallitnow because our hours are so "unstable." fuck you bitch. you who live off a pension that i'm paying now. that when i get to your age i'll still have to be working because you'll have used up my money. fuck you for trying to tell me how to live my life. fuck you for making my friends think i don't want to hang out with them because i have to worry about what you'll say if i come home after dark. fuck you for controlling me. fuck you for being so crazy. fuck you for thinking someone won't break into the house if you lock the screen door - they'll open up the BACK WINDOW YOU ALWAYS FUCKING LEAVE OPEN. fuck you for thinking that because you have a tree in the back yard someone will always stand behind it and spy on you. or break in. because obviously they want your ancient collection of avon type things. half used, half forgotten shit that clutters up what is supposed to be "my basement". fuck you for getting me so upset.

theres this miniscule part of me that right now wants to pull the plug. just hit [ done! ] and never EVER again write. or maybe just change...so nobody will ever know.

and then i remember that i like reading all these old entries...i like feeling those old ways, even when they bring on tears and i remember how it used to be....

dammit all to hell why can't anyone be awake for me to vent to them.

fuck it.

i'm going to shower. and deal with fucking cramps.

fuck.