I am sad.
I was going to go to a “Halloween in July” party, because how fun does that sound? But I’m not going. Instead, I’ve been overdramatically crying in my closet floor.
How did I get here?
It’s easy. I’m a pathetic human being. I was trying to talk to my mom on the way home from work, and she wasn’t interested, so it made me depressed. She’s been sick, so she’s tired and can’t deal with my mood swings. So, having no one else in my support system, I came home, crawled into my closet and have been crying on and off for roughly 2 hours.
The dogs are concerned but fail to comfort me.
Also, this is why I can’t have kids. Can you imagine being the kid whose mom comes home and locks herself in her closet to cry? That child is gonna be messed up.
It’s not too late. I could still go to the party.
I’m not going to. It costs money and in this mood I’d probably go, get depressed no one I knew would come with me, then binge drink. I really can’t afford it, and it would be irresponsible, but tomorrow I’m going to regret wasting my Friday night. I’m almost done with my 20s. I should have done more with them, but I spent a lot of time crying on floors instead.
And you know what gets me?
No one cares.
My mom tries to care, but my bipolar ass is hard to deal with and I get mad and snap and she stops caring cuz I’m mean. And that’s fine, and totally fair play, but no one cares.
The dogs care. They’re very concerned. But they can’t fix anything or even really console me.
So I curl up in a fat little ball of wasted potential and cry, and no one cares.
I wanted to go to a party. I wanted to have fun.