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2001-08-23 / 1:28 p.m. ~A whiny boring angst-filled rant~ I am so sick of the ups and downs. What am I, bipolar? Manic depressive? Is it the same? Feeling low, feeling high, things are great, there is hope, everything sucks, there's no way out. This morning all I could think was how sick of myself I am. I never finish anything, my apartment is so dusty, piles of magazines, catalogs, "things" everywhere. I can't throw anything away, I can't stand the thought of something that is recyclable sitting in a landfill. Yet I only know of one place to take all the metal, plastic, shiny paper, and it's so far away I seldom go. Piles. Have to remove piles to do laundry, they obscure the dryer. Everything's a chore, nothing is simple or easy. The car is going to break down soon. It needs a fuel pump and carburetor. It leaks at least a quart of oil a week. There are huge puddles, dinosaur footprint sized puddles of oil all over the parking lot at home. Little oil slicks here at work. I feel I should just pour the oil on the ground instead of in the car. What is the point? I can't even listen to music in my car anymore. The radio has been broken for years, now the tape deck is broken. I can only drive and listen to my own thoughts, the sounds the car makes, worry today will be the day no fuel gets to the engine. It started yesterday, after lunch, bucking on me, slowing down in 5th gear. I pulled into the right lane, nearly panicking, trying not to. On the way home I was too scared to drive the highway, took the parkway instead. Terrified to be one of the wounded vehicles along the highway. Towing, mechanics, how much will it all cost? My tax refund is spent. It will go towards bills, and no doubt the car. And I was silly to think maybe hockey tickets, or a new tattoo. Everything I own is old, run down, in need of repair. I want help, I want advice, I want counseling, I want therapy, I want parents, a sister, a best friend who is available, someone to offer, at least, to take care of me. I get so tired of doing everything on my own. It's my fault though, my independence has pushed everyone away. I'm at work and everyone is so loud, so much chitchat, so much girl talk, hair and makeup, and I'm dying inside. Fighter jets are flying overhead, so low and so loud. It feels like I'm in the Middle East. Everything is loud and irritating and I can't use hormones as an excuse, not this time. I am sick of being alive if this is what alive is. Cost of the War in Iraq
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