There’s situations where, you need a friend, and talking to them helps solve your problems. And then it really helps.
There’s another time, when you start going “I had a problem, but THIS is how I solved it! Aren’t I great! Don’t you agree with me? ALSO, this one time, such and such happens, so I KNEW this person was a bitch, and I also know they’re a bitch from when they did this that the other, so THAT’S why I’m not going to live with them.”
Fuck. I do not go for a drink at half past 1 in the morning to get cornered by someone who, because they slept in until 5pm, are wide awake as if it were actually only 3 in the afternoon, can SEE you have a headache and are yawning like you’re going to collapse at the table, watched you take your ibuprofen and say “yeah, headache, probably because I’m TIRED” to get talked at for over an hour and then “and, ALSO, I’ve lost a stone! Oh, I told you that yesterday? Well did I also say that…”
You’ve solved your mother fucking problem. You’re now on the road to recovery and everything’s looking bright and happy with little bunnies hopping around it. And you’ve told me 6 fucking times every fucking day you’ve happened to catch me in the motherfucking kitchen.
I am missing meals so that I actually HAVE the time to do work, and to have relaxation time, and to have sleeping time so that I don’t get caught and talked at for between one and five hours!
The number of times I’ve come back after a “brb, getting a drink” and someone who I was talking to has gone, or I’ve got a nasty voicemail message from a parent for not answering the phone, or I’m looking at my pile of work thinking “This was going to take 5 more hours, but since I’ve been delayed 5 hours, I’m now going to but up until 5!”
And it’s always the same card. The problem she’s had with these people that she’s wiped out of her life and has already sorted out is that they haven’t had time to listen to her and be a friend. So I can’t very well say “sorry, got work” or “sorry, too tired” or “sorry, I’m one of those people that can’t, actually, stand to listen to someone for 5 hours a day about the same goddamn problem over and over again, without even putting more than a “yeah… uhuh… no… yeah I know what you mean” in.
If I get caught 5 hours a day, that brings me up to 25 hours a week of listening to someone going on about how great am I for spotting that this girl is a bitch god knows how many times.
I can’t do this. It’s driving me up the fucking wall. I need me time. I’m not getting me time. My lack of me time is pushing my work into hours of sleep time. My hours of sleep time, tonight, will total about 4, because someone who is going to see me in 2 and a half weeks time anyway and stay there 2 and a half weeks, is complaining that it’s selfish of me not to spend the money and the 3 hours to go see them, when whenever I’m in the house she’s badgering me to go out and she’s too busy to have anything to do with me, and I have to catch up with a week and a half of college work. Considering how much I’m going to be ranting in my head, that’s probably going to be 2. I’m going to wake up more tired than before I went to sleep.
That girl needs a blog. I know I ramble in my blog. Writing or talking helps you get things in order and sort your thoughts out. But whoever reads my blog, is free to go get a drink, or think “she’s repeating herself, I’ll skip a few lines or just not bother with the rest” or go to the loo so they don’t ruin a half decent pair of pajamas because tesco value towels suck and you didn’t actually get a word in edgeways, nevermind “Be back in a minute” Reading a blog doesn’t stop you doing work (involuntarily anyway) or continue talking at you when you’ve just said “I’m halfway through my animatic, just getting a drink… think this might be an all nighter…(hint.mother.fucking.hint)” or “I’m to TIRED to wash up my stuff now… I’ll have to do it in the morning, after I’ve had some SLEEP!”
Actually now I’m going to have to get up earlier, because I was hoping to get back to my room sharpish by saying I was too tired to do the dishes, and an hour later I WAS too tired to do them. So great. Wonderful. Fucking brilliant. Maybe I can catch some sleep on the train without missing my stop, and then not fall asleep in the play my mate is in and offend her (and everyone there) terribly! Oh, or worrying my parents that I can’t look after myself. Joy. Mother’s day had to be this week didn’t it?
No Comments on "Do I look like bloody Freud?!"