I swear like 90% of the time with this fundraising thing I just want to be like, “You know what, fuck it, don’t donate, I don’t care! My brother’s already dead, why should I even care about this shit anymore?”
The other 10% is awkward suggestions to donate.
I hate people.
Hey guys, so back in september I lost my little brother to Cystic Fibrosis. I haven’t been the same since, and I rarely go a day without missing him still. He was the brightest, most sarcastic little brat I knew, and I loved him for it. This year we’re walking for a cure for CF and I’ve made my goal 200 dollars to raise. Mostly because I really suck at asking people to donate money, and I’m scared no one will. So, I’m just gonna throw this out here, you don’t have to donate, trust me, I know about being broke, but if you want to spread the news, or even send good vibes, that would be great.
Well. My day started off fantastically. You know when you have a realistic dream, and when you wake up, you’re sure it actually happened? I dreamt we all decided to go to the fair. Me, my sisters and my brother. We all had a plan and all I had to do was pick up my brother the next day and go. I woke up this morning, looked at the time and thought, ‘I should get up now so I won’t be late getting Michael.’ I sat up, looked around and all at once realized what had happened. I forgot he was dead. I got excited about plans that were never planned, with someone who would never be there ever again, and it was all taken from me all over again. This whole day I haven’t been able to shake that feeling, and I don’t think I’ll ever forget what it felt like to think like that. I felt so whole and happy. I felt like nothing bad had ever happened for a brief second, and now I’m back to the soul crushing feeling of emptiness and loss.
I knew the world was a horrible place and people don’t give a shit about you or your problems.
but telling me I failed my evaluation and don’t deserve the raise because I ‘look miserable and aren’t bubbly enough’ and you’ve only known me for the 4 months after my baby brother died is kind of really shitty.
Below is my essay for school. They told me to write about my dream job. Except my dream job had to be in pharmacy. Even though it isn’t.
My dream job in pharmacy is compounding in a huge corporate pharmaceutical company. This way I’ll be a faceless worker in a crowd of other workers and wouldn’t have to deal with customers. It would require the most basic of social skills, which is great because humanity is full of disgusting, immoral people who only care about their own needs. Since I won’t technically be in customer service I can just do my job and move on. Customer service is ruining America. We all get put in jobs that require it, where we have to cater to the customer who is more than likely ripping us off anyway, and we do everything they say, the customer is always right! They yell and scream and throw tantrums that put a 4 year old to shame to get what they want and we give it to them. We teach them that acting like a baby works. Now we have a group of people that are slaves to horrible pieces of crap causing them to hate humanity and the other group is a bunch of narcissistic, whiny, drama queens, thus rendering the world incapable of compassion. Since I would rather not be a part of that whole process, compounding is my field of choice. With compounding all I’m responsible for is my job. They give me a set drug, a set amount, and where to send it. If the customer doesn’t like it, tough. If the customer doesn’t want to take it, what do I care? I’ve done my part. I feel I’d be good at it too, because I like when everything I do is detailed. If someone just gave me a detailed description of something, wrote down all the instructions and let me at it, it would get done. It would be easy for me. I understand that there would have to be some human interaction in this line of work, but it’s the only branch of pharmacy with the least amount, and apparently my dream job is in pharmacy now. Which, let’s be real, isn’t true. Just because I go to school for this doesn’t mean I want to do it forever. It interested me, so I did it. A lot of things interest me, though. Writing interests me. Going on long, horrible rants about the downfall of humanity interests me. Dictatorship really interests me. My dream job would probably be learning. I like to read about things and learn about whatever I want to learn about that day. An 18 month program is not going to determine my dream job in life. I’m 21. I have many years to change my mind. I could be a janitor or waitress or a CEO of some company, or a political activist. Political activist is a lot of work, though, have you seen our government lately? I don’t want to spend the rest of my life compounding drugs to feed to the population so that they act normal, get better, stay skinnier, and conform to a set of standards determined by an unseen panel of detached people. My dream job is to live, learn, and hate humanity a little less by doing so. I understand you want us to have realistic expectations of our future careers, but what determines whether something is realistic or not? We have a whole world of possibilities in front of us, why put limits? Instead of telling us to think realistically, encourage us to believe in anything. We might want to be pharmacy techs, or doctors, or artists, or work in a traveling circus. Instead, we all work towards money and power. That’s all anyone wants anymore. To be able to afford to live. It’s soul crushing, to not do what you love because it doesn’t pay well. To have to write 500 word essays trying to convince someone you want to do something you don’t want to do. Well I won’t stand for it. If I want to educate myself on the ways of pharmacy techs I will! I will not lie about my intentions! I will not pretend to be something I’m not! I WILL DO WHAT I WANT AND I WILL SEE IT THROUGH IF I WANT AND I SHOULD NOT BE QUESTIONED FOR IT OR RIDICULED ABOUT IT. MY DREAM JOB DOESN’T EXIST BECAUSE I LIVE WITH THE WANT TO NEVER STOP LEARNING AND GROWING AND CHANGING. MAY I NEVER BE COMPLETE. MAY I NEVER BE CONTENT. MAY I NEVER BE PERFECT.
Thank you for your consideration.
I wonder how many cell phone numbers are used for no one.
I mean, my brother’s phone still gets paid for, I’m pretty sure we all still call it just to hear his voice tell us to leave a message.
I just…is that weird? I feel like I could never let that go, it’s a comfort to know it’ll be there, like he isn’t gone he’s just busy and will call you back.
So I got a new corkboard and a bunch of push pins.
I arranged them to spell out Okay. (Yay TFiOS!)
My mother apparently sat in my room while I was at work and moved them to spell out HOE.
WOW, YOU’RE COOL, MOM, STAY THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR INSULTING YOUR DAUGHTER LIKE MY GOD YOU DESERVE AN AWARD YOU FUCKING BITCH I FUCKING HATE EVERYONE.
1. Born To Die - Lana Del Ray
2. The Resolution - Jack’s Mannequin
3. Wake Me Up When September Ends - Green Day
4. Read My Mind - The Killers
5. Strange and Beautiful - Aqualung
6. Helena - My Chemical Romance
7. My Eyes - Dr. Horrible’s Sing Along Blog
8. Last Resort - Papa Roach
9. Be Gentle With Me - The Boy Least Likely To
10. Ain’t No Rest For The Wicked - Cage The Elephant
Have you ever been somewhere, surrounded by friends, and suddenly you have this tightness in your chest, a sinking feeling in your gut, the feeling that something horrifying is going to happen? You get this feeling and it wears you down all at once, makes it hard to breathe, makes it a struggle just to stay upright, makes it nearly impossible to speak or laugh or just stay alive. It hits you and you start to think you don’t deserve these friends or this life or any of these moments of happiness, that they’re wasted on you, you can’t even enjoy them properly, you’re freaking out over nothing and ruining everything. You can’t say anything or else you become the downer. The person who complains out of no where, gets sad for no reason. No one wants to hang out with that person. So you tell them you’re tired, you’re not feeling well. You force the smile on your face with your last bit of energy and you kindly excuse yourself. You leave them there, happy, still glad to be your friend, not worrying at all. You go home and you cry and claw at your chest and hold yourself as the gasps and sobs rip out of you and you tell yourself you are useless. You are a horrible friend. You are so dramatic. So weird. So stupid. So completely damaged and crazy. Then you get up. You go to work. You acknowledge people. You push yourself through every minute so no one will have to worry or help you. You don’t interrupt anyone’s life. You stand there and you whisper encouragement to yourself. It’ll be fine. If you can stay alive for a few weeks or days, this feeling will fade. It will go back to the dark corner of your mind and you will be happy. This has happened to you a million times in your life, you can extrapolate the outcome by now. You do this and you wait and you hope that it all goes according to plan. That is what I feel. That is my life. That’s what’s wrong.