At what point do kids start brushing their own f__king hair? I have a kid going into the sixth grade who won’t brush her own hair. She sits around and lazily slings the brush through a little 1X1 portion of her hair over and over again not making any progress. She just watches me lose my sh*t with this stupid f__king look on her face. Then the tears start. Three hours a day. Three f__king hours a day just to brush her hair. I just flipped sh*t on her five minutes ago, and I know she’s in there staring at herself in the mirror with her f__king mouth hanging open. She’s not a stupid kid. She’s pretty damn smart, but I want to shave her f__king head. That’s it. That is the solution. I’m going to cut her f__king hair off right now.
You were supposed to be light. Not the darkness that has plagued you. Where did you go that corrupted the soul I cherished for so long? How can I shine the light and not have the shadows come for you? I miss you. I hope I can find you again one day. Till we meet again best friend…
Tonight I am crying myself to sleep because of a video about a kid’s dad who was supposed to go on a trip with him but left. My dad did that a lot too. Why can’t I tell anyone about my dad? I envision my peers asking, “What’d your dad say?” And I envision myself responding with, “LOL, he didn’t respond.” However, inside my head, I’m like, “He died…”
I wish my mom remarried someone so I don’t have to worry anymore about having to lie about having a dad. I wish I had a dad so bad. Seeing my cousins have dads that are still here is slowly killing me inside. I always care about anyone who shows up in my life but I never show it. I care so much, but if they ever get out of my life, I get so worked up. I try and try to forget and avoid them until I’m finally able to do so, and then I totally stop talking to them.
One of the most irritating things that famous singers do is b-t-h about the song that made them famous. Yeah, people ask you to sing it all the time. And yeah, it gets annoying. But you wrote the MF. It made you rich as hell, and you’re going to b-t-h? How about you shut the f__k up and sing the song that all your fans, who made you rich and famous by the way, want you to sing. How shi**y of a person do you have to be to b-t-h about the thing that made you a millionaire? If it’s your only good song, that is no ones fault but your own. You aren’t of the caliber of famous musicians. You need to chill the f_ck out and do what your fans want!
I’m so confused when it comes to love. I’m in love with my best friend and it hurts. I’m not ready to be in a relationship but the rest of me wants them. I don’t know what to do. I love them so much. More than anything. I have for years. But I’m scared of losing my freedom.
Before I start I am going to say that I am a fat ass. I used to be skinny, but now I am 170lbs. I have lost weight, I have changed my lifestyle, and the weight is now coming off slowly. I know what it’s like to be fat and unhappy, but I’ve also never had any delusions about it. I freely admit that I got myself here, and I know that I am the only person that can get this weight off of me. I’m doing it. I figured it out. Watch calories, eat healthy-ish, no sodas, very little refined sugar, and exercise. It’s not really hard; it’s just getting the motivation up to do and be better.
So this girl I went to high school with, her husband is having a lot of trouble right now and they can’t figure it out. He’s having seizures and they can’t figure out why. Then she says, “He had a bunch of mini-strokes.” Well, there’s the answer. I’ve lived with epilepsy for 20 years. I’ve done research, talked to people, and I feel like I am pretty knowledgeable on the subject. He is hugely fat. So is she. They eat things like Cheetos fried chicken. Gross. I’m fat and I wouldn’t touch that. He’s a heart attack waiting to happen, but instead of a heart attack, he has mini-strokes. Weakness in the arteries caused by high blood pressure. Strokes can lead to, you guessed it, seizures. He. Needs. To. Lose. Weight. It’s not rocket science. When you weigh 400lbs things are going to start going wrong. I just don’t get how the doctors don’t see it and how my friends don’t see it.
Sometimes I look at kids who are up for adoption. I want to do it but I’m scared. There is this girl. She’s a teenager. Tall, skinny, short hair. She looks angry. I think she’s transgender and wants to be a boy. Not to be mean, but she just exudes masculine energy. They have her in a dress and she looks really mad. I say “she” because I don’t know what pronoun they would want. I think about her a lot. I think we could change her life. We would accept her and allow her to be who she wants to be, boy or girl. Imagine the shit a transgender kid goes through with a regular family. Now, stick them with families that are overwhelmed, overly religious or uncaring, and you have a recipe for disaster. I want to help her, but I am in no position to do so. I think about her a lot. She’s not close enough to me that I could even be her Court Appointed Special Advocate.
I reconnected with an old high school friend after about 20 years right before the pandemic. I don’t like Facebook. It’s a cesspool. I still join in sometimes, but for the most part, I open and close it in disgust. My old friend wants to talk all the time. Her best friend recently died, and now she is reaching out to me. Though we were once close, we are really different people now. We’re so different that it’s hard to be around her.
My friend died twice after an accident when she was younger and she ‘saw God.’ I was religious, but I am not anymore. I’m not mad at anyone, God especially. How can I be mad at something I don’t think exists? I’m not just some pissed off atheist running around telling everyone that God isn’t real. I’m extremely respectful of other people’s beliefs. You will never catch me telling a religious person that they are wrong. Never, ever, ever, would I do that. But they deem it necessary to try and save me and tell me that I’m wrong all the time. I never came out and said I’m an atheist, but I told her that I’m a skeptic of everything. She proceeded to tell me that she knows she’s right about there being a God because she’s seen God. I know what oxygen deprivation does to the human brain. The God she saw was just that; oxygen deprivation. I do get how crazy it must be to come out of something like that.
I’m tired of people minimizing my problems. If I tell them I don’t like my job, they say, “Just get a new one.” If I tell them my sister is controlling, they say, “Just don’t listen to her.” When I gained a ton of weight, they said, “Just drink a ton of water and hardly eat.” When I harmed myself once, they told me that it was just a phase. If I admit that I feel like I don’t have a purpose, they say, “Oh, just create yourself a purpose!” The list could go on and on and on. I try so hard to not become insensitive, but damn, it is really the biggest f–king struggle when everyone minimizes your problems like they’re absolutely nothing. It’s absolutely no help whatsoever to just make a problem seem like it’s not a big problem when it is!
Everyone forgets about me all the time. If I didn’t constantly try to put myself out there, or try to be the “outlandish yet funny” friend, I might as well be dead. Every single one of my friends ends up either forgetting to invite me to things, or they often just don’t include me in their conversations. It’s a repeated cycle that never ends. I wish it could stop. I’ve never had a friend I could actually confide in to talk to about this. Whenever I tell someone, they just say, “I’m not like that.” Then they just continue to talk about themselves. I’ve never had a non-toxic friendship, or one that doesn’t wither away because they don’t ever start conversations.