That Which Does Not Kill Me...

Alright. Obviously I'm not quitting. I knew I wasn't but I was a little ticked off at all of you. Well, all six of you.


I've just been so introspective lately, and I'm sort of tired of it. Catherine is even tired of it. She told me last night when I was reading to her from my paper journal, which I don't keep anymore. I was telling her about Lucy Montgomery and the good times we used to have. I then put on my Lucy overalls and Cahterine started screaming and I had to poke her gently with a stick but Catherine stole the stick and started telling me how sick of me she was and how I think I'm big scary fake-tranny serial killer but really I'm just a big baby who can't get over anything and catalogues every slight and I play this victim game and I'm very passive-aggreessive and I haven't even killed her yet ane I'm probably not going to but if she had to listen to any more of my whining she'd kill herself by bashing her head into the side of the well. Naturally I started cry9ing. I told her to throw back up the stick or it would get the pee again and she said she doesn't care and I ran into the other room and put on the last NIN album which I think was pretty underrated (but who am I, you know? I'm just a big ol' passive-aggressive whiner!) and I slumped dwn behind the fridge and hugged Precious to my chest and made her tel me how pretty I was. I started feeling better when I found a stray finger in the corner and I talked to the finger for a while and told the finger my problems and I think I fell asleep eventually.

Then I woke up and got angry and so I poked Catherine with a different stick until she passed out. I crawled down and lotioned her for about a half hour because she's been pretty bad about it lately and I started to think about what Catherine had said. And you know what, dear readers. Maybe she's right? Maybe I am too negative? I mean, the world is against me, I know that. And people slight me. They do? But do I have to let it get to me so much? I mean, could I use the constant betrayals and disppaointments to my benefit?

And then I found a time to use this new realization. I rented some movies from Blockbuster and when I got home the movies were not rewound. Boy, that made me steamed. I mean, as I've said, It's hard enough for me to leave the house. I don't need these problems. So I got back in the van and drove back toBlockbuster and politely asked the counter girl for a credit on my account since the movie was not rewound, and she refused. She wouldn't even give me some free Mike & Ike's, which really are the best candy in the world. She just kept saying she was "unable" to do anything. I ran out crying and I sat in the parking lot so upset I nearly caught and trapped and pigeon just to get the sad out of my system. That girl had no idea that I could have skinned and filleted her and fashioned a nice pair of booties out of her skinny back before her shift ended if I wanted to.

And I found myself heading over to KFC to buy a bucket of chicken and gravy to drown my sorrows because I havesome food issues and I was heading towards a dangerous shame cycle but I stopped. There was no reason I should be shamed. SHe should be shamed! I could use it! I could use the anger! I could use the offense, the terrible offense and wrong that had been done to me! So I left the KFC (after buying only a 2 piece meal!) and drove home and went on the Œnet and checked my wishlist, ready to use the anger to buy myself something. And I was all set to use this new freedom and empowermentŠand then I looked and saw that no one had bought me anything. Not even one book or the Barbra CD. Nothing! And I know other journal writers get sstuff from their readers. The stupid popular journal people who everyone loves and they fawn on thm and sent them stuff and no one sends me Antying! Nothing. I cried for the third time that day and realized that sure, I could use things to spurn me to action, but I was not equipped to deal with this kind of terrible betrayal. So I went to the well and told Catherine al about my day until she started banging her head into the wall and I had to taser her unconscious.

My point is... I don't know. I guess I need to learn to use all the constant slights to help me. To make me a better dog owner, and better moth keeper, and yes, a better writer. But sometimes when the fuckers get you down, you have to have someone to share your feelings with. Tooo bad my person is a selfish, selfish rich girl who doesn't even care about me. I swear I'm going to kill CatherineŠ just as soon as someone buys me that Death Stick from my wshlist.

So I'm back. Did you miss me?

You better.

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