Shit Bucket

I don't think I've ever felt worse about myself than I do right now.
I can't even write a form letter.
I have to remind people that changes they would like to see are not, in fact, corrections.

I hate my life, I mean, I REALLY hate it.

I am sick of the removed, the self-righteous, the condescending, the pre-occupied, and the fake crap that most people are throwing to me these days.
I am sick of being dog doo at work and of having to remind people that there is no I in team.
I am sick of men treating me like a fucking novelty item. I'm not a novelty. I'm a really cool person. Deal with it.
I am sick of the legal system not working for me. How friggin hard would it be to work with me on something that I am willing to work on with you? Justice is a fucking joke if you are a good person and didn't even know you were committing a crime.
I am going to throw up on myself and then scape it into a bowl and serve it to the next person who gives me some fake-ass line about what I should or should not do, where I should live, or some "correction" (i.e. verbiage adjustment) that I need to make and turn back in to my fourth grade teacher.

Unless you are calling me to help me get the fuck out of the shit-bucket in which I am trapped, kindly DO NOT call.

arizonasarah at 3:07 p.m.

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