I'm tired of being poor, tired of being cold, tired of being alone and confused, and mostly just tired. I wish I didn't have to do all of this sewing. I supposedly have this great job, and yet I am still broke and have to sew dresses to make ends meet. How is that right? Of course, after being unemployed for so long, the bills racked up, so it's kind of too be expected that there would be a catch-up period, it's just highly frustrating that that period has to be around the holidays. I want to buy presents for people! I want shoes! Really, groceries would be nice too, but that's not so important given that we have free lunch and tons of food at work.
And I hate that I'm only contracting here. I try so hard not to worry about it, and to tell myself that I'm doing great work and they like me, and they won't shuck me at any moment, but after the last few years of this sort of thing it's hard to believe that. I just can't help waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I don't really get why I'm so exhausted. It makes things so much harder to deal with. For example, the boy. I want to run into arms and bury myself there and pour out everything I'm feeling and beg him to love me, or at least see if he can. Sometimes he starts to say these things that give me such hope, but then we've both been reading too much Dickens et. al. and probably not getting enough sleep, so reality is a bit skewed. It just makes me so sad, yet so hopeful. These novels really are filled with nothing but Very Bad Role Models and I should stop reading them when I'm vulnerable and sleepy and kind of panicky.
If stomping my foot and pouting would help any, I'd be doing it.
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