I want to be a princess now.

I’m annoyed because dad insists on stuffing my blanket in the cupboard which stops me from getting any sheets out, I can’t find any clean pillow cases and the one he suggests I use is strange and unfamiliar.
I haven’t had a proper day off this fortnight, where I get to put my feet up all day instead of rolling my excruciatingly agonied (I apparently invented that word) feet on a tennis ball for five minutes before bed.
I don’t have time to shave or paint my nails (with diamond strength to stop them from breaking, not for prettiness) unless I want to wake up hours earlier or go to bed late (it already is too late to be going to bed for a 7am alarm ugh)
I don’t have time to do my laundry so I have clean sheets! People keep using all my time!
And I just feel like fucking quitting my job.
Because, fuck that.
Why would I have enthusiasm for this?
And I’ll never get a job where I can work when I want to and I’d never be able to support myself if I did.
Then I’ll get married and have babies I don’t get to spend any time with any way so that I can afford to buy groceries at the shitty place where I work everyday.
I’ve already been there almost every day this week, standing on my feet, working for other people, or on my day off shopping for other people, etc.
Customers talk to me like I am or should be miserable at work, like my job is horrible and workings horrible, but hey cheer up the moneys good.
My job is not horrible and I have nothing to spend the money on.
My happiness in life should be directly tied to my bank account?
Having money is worth more than stress-free (there’s no antonym for stress?) living and spending time with loved ones?
Stupid fucking superficial presuming old bastards.
And dads just gone to the bathroom the very minute I was done typing and could resume doing what the fuck I was actually meant to be doing before I go to bed too late!!
Argh then he tries to say goodnight to me when I’m doing something & have plaster on my face to get rid of the blackheads that have been festering on my face all day and takes it personally that telling him to fuck off is the only way to get him to leave me alone (I did say “I just don’t feel like talking” before that even while dealing with the blackhead dilemma and MY LIP LITERALLY JUST SPLIT ITSELF OPEN FROM DRYNESS BECAUSE I HAVENT MOISTURISED YET BECAUSE I HAVENT GONE IN TO DRY MY HAIR WHICH I NEED TO DO BEFORE BED SO NOW I HAVE NO TIME TO TREAT MY NAILS BECAUSE YOU MADE ME RANT ABOUT THINGS.)


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: