Sunday revisited

I used to be a happy girl, there are pictures of a smiling face and all the hope the world could offer. I used to believe that I could attain all those things and be happy. I used to think I could accomplish almost anything and then life frittered away into a series of just how at the mercy of other people we really are when it comes to our most basic survival.

And so that is how it ends? Who know? I don’t really even care. I have been beaten down on all fronts so many times that you have to ask yourself, does that omniscient force we’d like to rely on but who seems more amorphous than ever, really want me here? I don’t want me here. It’s easier not to feel anything because any time I do, it just amounts to disappointment.

Finding a job in something you are actually highly qualified to do and not being able to find a job to pay your bills to live — after months and months going on a year — is something I don’t even care about anymore. I am so sick of it, so sick of life, so sick of why do I need to be here? I have no family like the rest of you, I am adopted, know not my bloodline, was given up, forgotten, why must anyone now tell me they need or want me around? Without kids, it simply doesn’t matter.

This is honestly how I feel, right now, tears in my eyes I won’t let fall, because I was doing better as a numb shell of my former self. Now I can go back to sending out resumes that will never get call-backs.