Everything is so much harder right now than it should be. I'm tired of feeling undeserving and unattractive. I feel like I can't do anything right and that I can't accomplish anything on my own.

I spend 3 hours a day commuting, 6 hours sleeping, 8 hours at work, and the other 7 hours either trying to make it up to Bailey, being yelled at, or trying to build myself up.

Moving back into this house...I've reverted back into an insecure preteen--friendless and awkward.

This life feels monotonous and hopeless. I'm not interested in what I'm doing--even though I am thankful to be doing something. My mom wants me to live at home--most likely so she can blame me for everything wrong in her life and out of place in her house.

What kind of life is this? I'm not happy. It's not fulfilling. I'm fucking miserable and it doesn't seem like there is a fucking end in sight.

My mother--the uber sensitive yogi that she is thinks that fucking tarot cards are the answer. She takes the "it'll get better" and "this too shall pass" approach to life. I'm typically more of a "I'll make this better" type of person---but recently I've been too fucking terrified to make a movement without permission. It's like nothing makes sense to me and I'm not really sure who to go to for help.

Mom says go to the family therapist. Well I think he sucks and I know that he makes me feel super uncomfortable. I haven't found an acupuncturist or an apartment yet. My arm really fucking hurts a lot.

Between my ugly mousey haircolor and the terribly unflattering look of the work clothes that I have in my closet---I'm not surprised that I'm alone.

But this isn't a fucking pity party. Lifes not so bad and even though things suck a lot currently I'll be fucking damned if they stay this shitty for long. I forgive people for being thoughtless idiots because they can't help it.