Russell (zimzat) wrote,
Russell
zimzat

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Regret to the third power

I was trying to figure out something to do a little while ago so I decided to do some journal maintenance. I looked at my memories and remembered that I've been meaning to update them for the longest time. I started at the last quiz entry I put in memories (June 24th, 2003) and went from there. While I was going through the archives I looked at some of my other entries and came to realize some things.

For the first while that I had my journal the majority of my entries were quizes. I know there are a lot of people out there who can't stand people who only post quizes to their journal, so my old behavior started to disturb me. The thing is I remember at some time I made a point to stop doing all quizes. I consider that to be a good thing, as my pointless entries went down in number after that.

But, as all good things come with a butt, I realized something else after that. The majority of my actual entries were angsty or spazzy. Some of the entries consisted of four word sentences and a emoticon, and the pattern repeated across the entry. The angsty ones were even worse, with every sentence proclaiming how much I hated my life and moaning the death of it.

If I didn't know otherwise I wouldn't have been surprised to see myself commit suicide way back then. Some of the things I went through were so superficial that I can't believe I made such a big deal about them. Other things I'm surprised I made it through, especially with the state my mind was in back then.

--

As I'm sitting around trying to find something else to do some more regrets are hitting me. More personal, and recent. Stephen's [grand]parents have been making a point of asking if I've found a job every time they see me, and I wouldn't doubt if they're asking Stephen every time they talk to him. They've even gone so far as to demand he kick me out of the apartment if I don't find a job by the end of this month. That alone rocked Stephen's world because he's relying on their support to put him through graduate studies.

I get this feeling that I'm really not doing enough for my part. I'm not bringing in any money, and I'm barely keeping the apartment representable. It's not like I'm doing a good job as a "housewife" seeing as both my cloths and the towels need washed and I haven't done them like I should've last night.

Maybe I'm not being pushy enough to find a job. Maybe his parent's are right, and I shouldn't be leeching off them. Maybe I shouldn't be eating their food. I know I don't deserve it. It's just not my place.

--

I'm sorry. I'm being more expressive than I actually feel, so don't take this too seriously. I'm fine. Really.

--

I wanted to put more in this entry. I meant to put more in this entry. I just can't remember anything else I wanted to say. Maybe later. Maybe not.

--

I will survive.
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