4:07 p.m. | 2004-09-13
Write Me A Song; Be Literate and Stylish
I'm frustrated because I'm as adult as I think kids my age can be. Honestly.
I'm frustrated because I have the inability to say no, and I can't help but be the savior in every situation.
I'm frustrated because as much as I realize these faults, I've never been able to change them.
I got upset at one point last year when I felt I was being used, that people were borrowing too much without asking (or even with asking) and I was just burnt out and fed up and I couldn't take it anymore. For once in my life it was "too much." Yet I never said anything out loud. Ever. And now as I cover shifts left and right, literally like spinning plates and running around from plate to plate just praying they won't crash I find my feet are failing under me. I find my mind can't keep up and the bags under my eyes are beginning to show a bit too much.
I'm afraid I drop a plate from now and then and for a creature of perfection (or at least one who strives to be) that's a terrible thing. Because I'm never supposed to drop that plate, burn that milk, mess up that smoothie, have to re-make that drink--EVER. So the frustration comes when I try to figure out why I let myself do this. So someone calls in sick, what happens if I don't come in? What happens then? Who closes? Who cleans everything? Who counts the money at night?
I'm so fed up with this whole facade I wear. I'm so fed up with the way I act and the way I walk and the way I talk. Because that's not me. I'm am not a "slightly bright, slightly arrongant" anything. I'm a sad, poor, whimpering little girl who wants nothing more than her daddy to love her and a boy to hold her hand. And I can't admit to that. Because of course tomorrow I'll be denying it all over again. I'll be calling it one of my moods and we'll all be "moving on." The problem?
That's bullshit.
This isn't a mood, it's a sad undercurrent we all have (fuck teenage issues) that just pops up from time to time. You have it, I have it, it's nothing new. It's just frustrating that not a single one of us can get over it. Not even me.
I'm not sure what I want or what I need. Because perhaps satiating my desire is not the best cure, perhaps it's learning to love and be who I am and who I'm supposed to be. Maybe that's the best thing for me. Maybe. I just can't see living like this anymore.
I can't.
