I don’t know what to think or feel anymore, it’s all just more of the same astoundingly hollow feeling.
Every time I believe or hope, it turns into the same beat down from life. Why tell someone to soften? To think something is wrong with them because they were hurt when you didn’t feel the same when you said the same words.
She’d fallen, a fool, believing the things that were said the words no one remembered saying
She’d always taken her word seriously, and now she thought that was a huge fallacy she’d upheld, in the end, for no reason.
She’d suffered all that and it didn’t matter one bit. All she’d ever known was loss and momentary bliss is the temporal beauty of a sunset.
It’d been so long since she’d kissed or been kissed, that was now something better left unsaid.
At this point, I don’t have feelings, don’t want them, don’t even see the point in being. Why would you do this to me when you knew…?
You don’t even realize that your actions devastated me again – because even if I could explain, even if by some miracle, you understood me, then you would never live the life you do. But no one seems to understand a word I say. The therapist said, “I didn’t know you were that depressed.” Ummm, ok, I had no idea what to say to that one. I could only conclude that the words I say mean entirely different things to everyone else.
So now it’s count the days of savings so you can plan to die then because paying work is gone now
And I’m not even interested in the bullshit I have to say – for what?
I never get ahead, and now I’ve got ailing health to worry about. I haven’t had health insurance for > 10 years, but it doesn’t matter anyway because if something is wrong with me, I’d rather not know.
I’m adopted and have no idea what my genetic background is. If were young and wanting to start a family, I’d do all the things necessary to make sure my bastard lineage would right itself. I’d overcompensate, as I always did,
I would have cared because I had a reason to.
Someone I was responsible for, to show the wonder of life, someone related to me by blood, someone to look after, and that spirit you send forth to continue…your ways in the world.
This was the nail in the coffin, as they say, which I guess was one nail coz you were poor and only got a single tack holding that plywood over your dead face.
I’m sick of being angry and knowing I’m right, but getting consistently fucked over, underpaid, taken advantage of, not even considered when it was me who actually did the work that they profit from.
Why? It’s stupid to continue. I’d do something else but every path I research and work towards ends up derailing at a certain point – because I am a woman, over 35 (by a lot). When I’m not too overqualified to consider for a shit job (literally cleaning up shit is a job I have done – in stables), I’m already being evaluated by everyone as inferior, according to the press on a daily basis. And they have proof.
Women professors are across-the-board considered subpar to male counterparts. Women don’t ‘sell’ so getting stories made about being a woman is difficult. Women under 40 don’t like the woman who is running for president.
Why? Because they think they’re better than her just like they think their male professors are more valuable than their female teachers.
There is nowhere to put my knowledge and expertise. And I have no one to hand down anything to that matters so now it’s just the proverbial killing time til it kills you.