(Update, April 28, 2016: This entry was the result of having a lot that I wanted to write about when I got out of bed, and then losing inspiration due to my roommate talking to me for about an hour until she finally went to bed, so I basically did a punk rock version of what I wanted to say.)
I hate when my dad is right.
I tried being positive, thinking I could make things work. But again, I was wrong.
I hate when trying to do the right thing becomes just another in a long line of "poor life choices".
I get the impression sometimes from pro-life idiots and/or "bootstraps" types that they secretly wish that some of us had been aborted.
I hate that god damned term, "poor life choices". Fuck that shit, "Trickle down" economics must die.
I've been thinking of either getting a weekend job, or going to school, again. I'm not sure what the hell I'd do for a second job, but preferably something that's introvert friendly and doesn't involve driving. (Uh, yeah, good luck with that.)
And as if I didn't have enough on my plate, I found out that someone used my identity to file their taxes. I may get my refund, but it will be sooner rather than later.
If I were a religious person, I'd be praying for an extinction level event to wipe us all out.
