Never Humble

September 3rd

It's September 3rd, 2018. My half birthday, actually. That holds no significance, but it makes for a half-assed conversation starter. It's been pouring rain the last few days and it's supposed to continue to due so for the next week or two. In a two hour span, we've been under a tornado watch and now we're under a flash flood warning until tomorrow morning. My mother, boyfriend, and I have been watching The Great British Baking Show, just waiting until the power finally clicks off for the evening. Our basement has started to subtlety flood, although flood isn't the word I'd use. Maybe just uninvited water glistening over the concrete flooring.

I'm currently unemployed. I have this really bad habit of walking out of jobs. I'm an entitled 18 year old that believes I should be given an allotted amount of time off. After working myself to the bone, I eventually just didn't show up to work one day. The same way I left my last job. It's a shame, I enjoyed my job. I was a resident aide for the elderly. I feel horrible towards my residents who I've said I would visit after they moved to a different facility, and now they've turned into former residents I haven't seen in months, and probably won't see ever again. The time just gets away. They probably don't even remember me at this point. I don't think I'll ever work up the courage to walk in there and see them again.

I am looking for another job though. I've actually been looking for another job for the last month. I had a phone interview a few days ago for a job that seemingly sounded wonderful and after hearing the details, I turned them down. No facial jewelry, no visible tattoos, every other weekend required, nails half an inch long, 8.25 an hour (OR 24% of commissions, you don't get both) and after she stated I would have to take my nose ring out, I declined the job offer. That might not be too incredulous, but it would take place in a hospital setting. The doctors walking around were probably decked out in tattoos. One of the hardest working med aides I've ever seen had a rad fucking sleeve and a hoop earring. Other than that, I'm still looking. A few sketchy insurance agencies, a call center here and there, one company called me four times AND emailed me because they were so desperate for help so I just kinda ignored that one. Full time is just a fucking pain in the ass. I didn't worked 6/7 days a week, make close to $1,000, only to bring home barely $600. If I'm constantly going to be in your facility, busting my ass, my paychecks better show for it. If I'm struggling financially and mentally, that's kind of a problem.

Currently looking for part-time work before I start my studies for a degree in journalism. I really want to enjoy my life, I really want to get it right, I want to be happy. I just think if I would've done anything else in the world, I would've been kicking my ass for an eternity. I could write absolutely anything, I don't give a shit as long as I'm writing. Ironically enough, I'm not a fan of vulgarity. BUT, I am a fan of authenticity.

I don't like the word diary, journal suits a little bit better, but that still doesn't quite hit the nail on the head. An excessive drabble about my days might be a little bit more accurate. I want to be raw, I want to be honest, I want to be authentic. My head is an awful place to live in, but I'm aware of that. I would never bring harm upon myself or others, I'm actually pretty with it.  The world has been pretty cruel thus far into my life, but I think there's this faith ingrained within me that things will get better. My thoughts are just thoughts, I would never act upon them, but they scare me sometimes. Anxiety is usually the first word that comes to mind, but it's a little bit more manic. Living inside my mind is chaotic and I feel as though I've never been able to portray that (unless I was ripping my hair out while screaming on the floor). I'm insane, but I don't want to slaughter my neighbors. I don't want to drive my car off the side of the road into the nearest tree trunk. I don't want to harm anybody, I don't want to slit my wrists. I'm not here to scream in your face and yell out unintelligible sentences. You will understand the words coming from my mouth, and sometimes you might even agree with them. I'm not wounded from the world around me and another person will never be the cause of what goes on inside my head. I am not damaged, damaged implies I was once whole. I am not ruined, there was never a day my perspective changed or a moment where I became cold. I am not cold. I have a lot of love for humanity and animals and iced coffee and shitty movies and hugs and heated blankets and words and there's so much love inside of me. I am a fully functional human being and I want to live my life and sometimes I feel like the only way I can do that is by portraying my thoughts.
I can't escape taxes, working 50 hours a week is considered the norm, can't pay your bills working a full time job? Better pick up a second job, babe.
This is not what I will do with my life and I'm putting my fucking foot down on that. I will not work a 9-5 job, I will not sacrifice my sleep, my mental health, my physical health, my relationships, all for a god damn job that can't even pay me enough to survive.
Life is fucking weird and it only continues to get weirder. In 18 years I've come to four conclusions. My cat is my soulmate, I don't know what I'm gonna do without my mom, writing is the only thing that continuously holds my attention, and people are so painfully flawed.
Right now, I'm laying on my couch with my black cat tucked into my side, my comforter laying across my legs, my boyfriend sitting at the opposite end of the couch by my feet, and I'm typing this on an iPhone. My boyfriend is watching a YouTube video and we're not speaking and honestly, I prefer it that way. He makes me so conflicted. He is so good to me. So good for my soul, so good for my mental health, he always takes care of me, gets along with my family, the only person who seems to even remotely understand my head, someone I feel completely 100% open to (and I didn't even know that was possible), someone I can always hold a conversation with and say horrific things only to watch him nod in agreement. But I'm not satisfied and that makes me disgusted with myself. I love him so much and I'm so thankful for his existence, I would never do anything to hurt him emotionally or physically. While we are in a relationship, I am devoted to him. But I don't know how content I truly am. I go through spurts. Sometimes I wait for the day I'll walk out and that refreshing feeling I haven't felt in 14 months, but after we talk it out, sob on his twin-sized bed, we recover and we're okay and I remember why we're together. But I'm just waiting for the day that doesn't happen. I'm waiting for the day it isn't enough and my head finally snaps and I have to walk away. I don't want that day to happen. I don't want to destroy another person, someone who I owe so much of who I am to.
I got out of my goddamn house and studied to get my license for him, I got better, I started to talk to people, form relationships with my coworkers, people finally got to see who I was, I stopped being terrified of people, I grew, I worked hard, I made plans and I followed through with them, and he did that for me. This progress wouldn't have been made without him and I will never take that away from him. But I want that freedom that being on my own provides, I want to get up and go where I want without having to coordinate it with another person, I don't want to be responsible for another person's life, and I hate his hair.