I don't know. Seriously, this is probably going to be one of those full of sound and fury, signifying nothing sort of post. I actually have entire journal entries lately that pretty much are I don't know written over and over with some other ponderings in between. So, if you clicked in for something profound, sorry, you picked the wrong week to click.
Oh, I could write volumes about all the crazy, messed up, inexplicable stuff going on in life lately. Seriously, I could. Just out of what happened today, I feel like I have lived a thousand lifetimes since I woke up this morning.
But I can't write about what's going on in my life because people are sensitive and as much as part of me wants to just scream "BRING IT!" I don't need to fuel this drama fire that seems to be camped around me.
Life would be less dramatic if people would be honest. I don't know, just something I think about sometimes.
And much like Ricky Bobby, I don't know what to do with my hands.
I don't know what to do with baseless accusations I am contending with. I don't know what to do without bass. I just don't know.
I don't know nothing about nothing and I don't know how this is all supposed to play out. I just don't know.
My inner Stuart Smalley wants to remind me that I am good enough, I am smart enough, and gosh darn it people like me. So, I don't know why I keep getting rejected. I don't know why I feel so stupid all the time. I don't know why people would like me.
I don't know why people would like me because someone in my life keeps telling me that I am horrible. It's been their M.O. since they decided that they wanted to pursue other interests. I really want to start writing in the pubic forum about the insidious nature of emotional, mental, and financial abuse and I don't know how to start doing that without inciting a riot.
I don't know. That's all I can say anymore. I don't know about my job situation. I don't know about my financial situation. I don't know what I want to wear today. I don't know about my housing situation. I don't know about this book I am reading. I don't know why I can't have nice things. I don't know why the dudes in my life that leave me never leave me for younger, prettier woman. I don't know how to process things. I don't know what's going on with any of the now four legal battles I am involved in because of someone else's poor choices in life. I don't know why I just said that.
I am frustrated. Why? Because I don't know. I don't have to know everything or even half of everything but the whole stalemate, land of illusion that my life is anymore has me completely befuddled. I don't know what I am supposed to make of all of it. I don't know, as my good friend is prone to saying. whether to shit or wind my watch.
I don't have this expectation of life being something easy.
But Jesus, I don't know why it's got to be so brutally hard lately.
I don't know. I just don't know.