It appears as though I’ve figured it out.
Every time you reach for the stars you only give yourself another opportunity to fall on your face.
I know where my depression comes from, I totally know. It comes from my inability to settle for second best. In any and everything I do. I won’t settle for what comes along I keep hoping and trying for the very best. The exact thing I want. Even in significant others. I know what I like and what I want, and I won’t settle for what’s “good enough” or what seems perfect to the naked eye. So I spend all this time striving for what I’m pretty sure I want, all these nice, good things. And I watch them all slip through my fingers because I don’t have the resources, ya know??? I have this irrational fear of driving. I don’t have any money.
I just refuse to sit back and be something I don’t want to be. At least if I could settle for miserable, I would have my bills paid. But no! I flat out refuse to do something I don’t want to do. God, I must be some kind of snobby elitist. I mean, I went to 7 years of college to avoid slinging fries just. to. pay. the. bills!
What the fuck; I ask you. What the fuck?!
It appears as though unless you are born beautiful and rich or with a sob story large enough to get the attention (and pity) of the beautiful and rich, you can’t make it doing what you truly love. You just fucking can’t. And there isn’t anything I can fucking do about it. Not a damn thing.
I tried, ya know, I fucking tried. I wasn’t expecting success over night. I mean, I guess I haven’t even put forth that much friggin’ effort. Here I am bitching and I’m not even doing anything. I sit here tooling around on my fucking laptop, posting pictures there, uploading stories there and I feel like I’m doing something. It really feels like an effort, but in the grand scheme of things it’s shit. Complete shit. Not a damned thing.