I can now empathize with the irrational

As always, I'm coming here to talk about my bad mood. I've had one of those moods all day, and I just haven't been able kick it.

Thanksgiving. I had Thanksgiving at my Nana's house, per tradition. My mom couldn't be there this year though... She works retail. My cousin Nick couldn't be there either because he is now enlisted in the military. Max came along though. Josh and Ashley were actually there this year too.

So after Thanksgiving with my family, we had Thanksgiving with Max's family. He got all anxious before going because he didn't want to be there in the first place, and he made it sound like it was going to be horrible. They were all sitting around the table getting drunk when we got there. And then they all had a smoke and passed the bowl around the table. So different than my family get-togethers (unless you count my immediate family's get-togethers).

After spending time with his family, Bobby and Carl came over (man these nicknames I assign people on this blog are too obvious). Because they are all in a band now thanks to all being associated with me. So, they all jammed for awhile. I hung out by myself in Max's room and pet the cats and absentmindedly browsed the internet while they played. After they jammed, Max asked if I wanted to go home (because that was the original plan), and I said I'll just stay the night. That's where I fucked up. As soon as they were done jamming for the night, Max's friend Robert came over, and the first thing he said when he walked up was, "Anybody want some shrooms?" And that's when I knew my night was over. I knew nobody was going to turn down that offer, so I walked back into Max's room and lay down in the bed. Max said he wasn't going to do any, and I don't think he did, but he DID spend the rest of the night hanging out with those guys while they all tripped. So I was, as always, by myself for 90% of the time I was at his house. I mostly stared at the wall until I passed out. As I typically do when I'm at Max's house.

And today, when I woke up, he asked if I was hungry, and I said yes, so he left to get us food in the big house (his grandmother's house that is right next to his apartment). He was gone for more than an hour. He came back at 2pm, right before he had to leave for work. Said he had lunch with his family (who he talked so much shit the night before about not wanting to be there) and he brought me a turkey sandwich. I didn't want it. I was upset because I realized I should have just went home. I kept telling myself, "I shouldn't be here." I want him to spend time with his friends and especially his family. Most of them are only in town for the holiday. I was just so tired of staring at walls. And I knew I shouldn't be there so I wouldn't feel guilty and selfish about being alone when he's spending time with other people. I just should not have been there.

And, since I was already in a mood that I couldn't shake, he asked if I was mad at him. I had to say no. And I hate to not tell him when I'm upset, but I also didn't want to be irrational. I'm glad he spent time with his family.

So he dropped me off at my mom's house while he went to work. He texted me when he got off of work asking if I wanted to hang out. I told him no. I told him to spend time with his family. He responded "Are you sure? I miss you though." Not really convincing at all. And we haven't talked since.

I've just been horribly sad all day. I haven't been able to get any work done, and I think I'm just going to go to sleep.

Cold

I often wonder if I deserve this. Then I remember how much of a piece of shit I am in other aspects of life.

I hate to get this way, but I do feel pretty worthless. Never in the sense of "I'm worthless so I should die," but more in the sense that I posses no skills and have done nothing with my life. I'm not good enough. All I've worked for most of my life is getting this stupid degree, and I'm not even cut out for it. I've always only done just enough to get by, and, somehow, I've excelled by doing the bare minimum at the last minute my entire life. That has only worked for so long, and now I can't seem to be good enough or work hard enough. I just feel so inadequate.

I've been in a bad mood lately. I take it way too god damned personally when Max ignores me. That automatically puts me in a bad mood no matter what. And his communication skills have not been very good lately. And I've been stressing all semester about this portfolio review I've got at the end of the semester. Now it's a week and a half away, and the amount of work I have to do is ridiculous. Why can't the final project be more slow-paced and less shit crammed into a tiny time period so we can have time to revise for our portfolio reviews? Because that would make too much sense. Did I mention that this portfolio review determines whether I can get a degree in Graphic Design or not? Because that's what it's for. And if I don't pass this thing, I don't know what I'm going to do. I wish I could just drop out or at least take a semester off, but I can't afford to pay back student loans right now... A vacation would be nice.

I just feel so empty right now.

I've questioned this degree so much this semester. Is this really what I want to do? I hate the idea of a career. I don't want to do just one thing for the rest of my life. How fucking dull. But I don't want to not have a degree and stuck in shitty minimum-wage jobs for the rest of my life either. I don't know what I'd get a degree in otherwise. My roommate made a pretty good suggestion... I know if I can't do Graphic Design, I will not continue to pursue a degree in art. That's just irresponsible. I'll be poor the rest of my life (I may be poor anyway...). So, I could major in Marketing. Or "Management and Marketing" as my school calls it. It's just a BA... a cop-out generic degree... but it's something. Something broad that will hopefully look good to future employers. It sucks that we have to base our entire worth on one piece of paper.

And now P is texting me. Because he's drunk and basically destroying himself slowly, so of course he has to tell me all about how he's dying. And I guess I'll never know if he's telling the truth until it's too late. I don't want to think about it.

Or anything.

Never surprised. Always disappointed.

Today is Sunday. Today is the day Max always comes to visit me. He'll work in the morning and come to my house afterward. He normally gets here around 5pm. Except right now it's 11:30, and he's still not here. He's still at his house writing a paper. I completely understand that he has to do his schoolwork. I'm glad he's getting it done and not saying "fuck it" like he usually does. Because that kind of "fuck it - I'll make a zero" attitude pisses me off. So, I'm not mad at him or anything. I can't get mad that he procrastinated because he always does. And I always do.

It's just that there's always something. There's always something. And every time something happens, I always tell myself I should have expected this. It's that same old feeling I always have: disappointment. I had gotten my hopes up all week. Way up. I always get my hopes up... and they're always crushed.

Fucking always.

It was the best of times

It was the worst of times...

I wrote that last post on my phone while lying on the opposite side of the bed as Max after he had fallen asleep. I'm not going to fix all the errors. Max and I have had a rough few days. I guess we've just been stressed and frustrated. It's just that when he gets frustrated, he raises his voice. He doesn't necessarily yell, but he does speak with an angry inflection. And I know he's not taking it out on me, but when I try to talk to him, and he responds angrily, I take it personally. So, in turn, I get frustrated.

Suddenly, I'm just too tired to talk about this. But I just want to say that we have been, I guess, kind of fighting. Not bickering over stupid things per se, but just getting frustrated with each other and arguing over how the other is acting. Hopefully things will be better when he comes back Sunday.

And the entire weekend wasn't a loss. We enjoyed each other too, but I'd say it was about 50/50.

Sometimes it just feels better to give in

Tonight I am going to bed sad. Really sad. And I know I'm going to feel dumb in the morning in the morning. I always feel dumb after crying. It's extremely rare for me, but once it stars, it's really hard to keep it in or stop it. I'm not sure why I'm s saying this. It just felt like it needed to be said.

I know I write here a lot when I'm venting and or angry, but my reasons for being sad I'd line to keep to, myself for now.