Another Random Bitch Fit

No real updates this week. I want to throw a bitch fit. However, much unlike the kind of fits I throw, I don't feel like being as elaborate or as articulate with how I want to write-shout this one out. See, I am currently the first thing in sick and tired and stressed and abused and frustrated. A lot of devastating shit has been happening to me offline; if the words "devastating shit" are a cock, then it's pounding me hard in the ass as we speak. Ow, ow, ow. Anyway, you don't want to hear my crap. Much like the same seemingly end-of-the-world roadblock you're facing right now, nobody gives a shit. My issues are nowhere near scandalous, they're the last thing in interesting, haha, so I won't bore you. I'd keep it to myself, although I'd write it away, in this here post, because writing has helped keep me sane countless times prior. 

You know how it feels like when somebody close to you, no, very dear to your heart submits you to the same selfishness because they don't seem like changing? No, baby, have fun all you want, don't mind me. I'm spending longer hours at work now, like an additional two hours for the godforsaken commute, but I can manage. Yes, I just found out how tired to the nuts I am now. I just got home, baby, and I see you sleeping like a harmless angel with a moustache. Sleep it off. You deserve it. You go ahead and have fun all you want. Don't mind me. I have the toughest lady nuts anywhere. All this additional stress? Nahh, you just have all the fun you can get, don't think about it, don't worry yourself none. No, oh no no no, don't mind me, you go ahead and have all, as in All!, the good times you can get. I'm only in the night shift for three months, so you better get the most of it! You know how tough I am. I'll get used to this, too. 

Yes, I'll get used to this, too. On account of this has happened before, like a month ago, and I remember some scatterings of the same incident while we're alr... But then, like I couldn't have mentioned enough, you go ahead and have all the fun that you can. Don't mind me and this anger-point kind of white deja vu I'm writing about. White, as in the color of boiling point loathing, and it is dissolving me from the inside. Nope, you know me enough. It's not killing me yet. You just sleep it off, maybe we'll talk later. And then what? Your "I'm sorry" will be tender and profuse with kisses, and then we're back to okay. And it can be the best apology ever if only it didn't have the qualities of a song on repeat. 

Oh, your status updates are killing me, too. Never mind that you're keeping me a secret to most of your new friends, but you have to know how you're hurting me with the kind of longing you're posting about. I'm trying my best, my absolute, and it pains me to suddenly feel so inadequate. 

I can handle an additional two hours to commute. Yes, I will be sour, and I will be grumpy, and I will all the more caustic, but that's nothing I can't manage. I have the toughest lady nuts anywhere. But my self esteem is on an all time lo... Help me out, will you please?