catusannie's Journal

I guess I really am just a big fat bitch.  I hate people.  Just let me be.  Stay out of my space.  I don't want your help.  I don't want company.  I'll do it myself or it won't get done.  Who really cares anyway.  In the grand scheme of things it doesn't matter.  We live. We struggle. Blessed relief: we die.  The good in this life does not outweigh the heartache.  Does not outweigh the always wondering if you're doing the right thing.  Or whether someone will take what you say the wrong way.  Sometimes I am grouchy.  You can be grouchy.  Why can't I?  Sometimes I let my temper get away.  Your temper can get away.  Why can't mine?  I give you the benefit of the doubt.  I think of who you are and where you are coming from and what you have to deal with in your life at that particular time.  Why can't you give me the benefit of the doubt?  Remember all the good things I have done?  Remember that I may have stresses and concerns that are overwhelming me?  Why do I have to be a glob of plyable goo to fit your wants and needs?  Why can't you fit mine?  Why do I have to be perfect?  I'm not.  I never will be.  I'm standoffish.  I'm socially challenged.  I like my space.  I don't like anyone in my space.  I just want to be able to support myself and be left alone.  Yes, sometimes I'm lonely; very lonely.  But not too much.  Sometimes I'm jealous of people who make friends easily who are outgoing and spontaneous who are just so upbeat and effervenscent that sometimes they tire you out.  Sometimes I wish I could be that way.  And I am sometimes, for awhile, to a certain point.  Why don't I smile?  I do.  I've practiced in front of a mirror.  I look like a vampire when I smile.  I scare little children when I smile.  As I've gotten older the corners of my mouth have gotten lower and lower.  I'm not frowning.  It's gravity.