Starting to realize anyone with a search engine can find out who I am. Ugh. Fuck.
Also what literary magazine I work for.
Not a good relation.
That’s why that Indian lady left our poetry group. Because I was being racist on my personal blog.
Well. I still think there’s a disconnect between the personal blog and the professional literary journal. But I understand the concern.
Studying math. Watching twitch. Slept from about 4 to about 9. Mom’s going to work tonight. She had a couple nights off to tend to me and my mental illness for the last few nights.
I have two younger brothers and the youngest was in my head (FUCK I hate that phrase… FUCK) voicing his voices, he, talking, non stop, little shit, not really in real life, a great person, but a little shit in my mind, no, I think he’s awesome, but the hallucinations were garbage. Do you get it?!
Ugh. Fuck. I hate my disease. And every morning or after a nap I feel fine. And gradually it creeps back in.
It’s not fair.
I want to cry.
No one has ever called me a hero. No one has ever said how brave I am to live with such thing. Such an existence.
Sigh. No one cares.
I don’t get much money from the state at all because I didn’t work much. They only pay you for real if a) You had a job immediately before you were sick for at least a good fucking period of time, six months PLUS whatever you want to earn, or b) you’re full-time permanent disabled, which I guess is from your doctor? I don’t know for sure. But I think so. And that sounds hard to get.
Life’s not fair.
I’m studying to become a web designer, still. It’s a slow process because there’s like, the homework, the course, not very streamlined. It’s shit. It’s fuckt. Fuck I’m angry again. FUCK. I fucking hate being angry. It makes me look so evil. Fuck. And feel like shit. Fuck…
Ugh. Web design. I’m not learning fast enough. I’m not studying enough. I don’t do enough work.
I’m just on my second homework assignment. I haven’t designed any, well, kind of some rudimentary web sites but nothing with like even that much organization to it.
I’m tired. I’m done for now. There’s so much more. There always is. I’m sorry for all of this. Sincerely.