Thursday, August 11, 2011


We're having a showing today. The 1st one since the house has been put on the market. It's this evening at 6pm. Today I have to work and then I supposed I should clean, right now I'm crabby because I didn't get to write last night. It's my own fault, I should know better than to concede to lunacy.

I allow my guilt to get in the way. Guilt for things that have nothing to do with me.
The reality of the situation is that I'm with my son all day, so I can't write and then I teach, so I can't write - so the only time I can write is at night - but then my husband comes home, so I feel guilty.

All these things are excuses, that's all.

I never have any time alone - the only time is Sunday evenings IF my husband goes out. Never having time alone is begin to take it's toll. Most days I just want to scream. Hell, I can't even go to the bathroom alone, so how the hell can I write?
I don't remember the last time I went someplace by myself that wasn't to work or to pay a bill.
I used to go to movies alone.
Running or walking in the parks.

I think what sucks the most is that I feel like if I even suggest I get time to myself that I'll be looked down upon. But the reality is becoming clear how much I just don't care.

I'm tired of waiting for people to realize that I can't carry all of this shit.

Whatever, right? It's all just more excuses.

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