Incessant rumblings of the core

KYUBEY YOU ASSHAT.

I knew something was fishy about him…

I think I might watch the rest, I’m not sure… AGH. I’ve been so good at having some self-restraint…

Still more hunting…

So I’ve job hunted for some of the day, still haven’t quite been successful.

My mom had come out of her room—apparently she couldn’t sleep because she was looking for jobs for me, too—“and I’m the mom, even.” 

I have so many fears, anxieties, preferences…

I guess it’s time for me to just SUCK IT UP and do something about it. Just, GO.

Apparently she will support me wherever I go (I thought she wouldn’t; that and I thought that I’d stay here, find a local job, then move out with my own money) but we’d both like to see me out as soon as possible. She said that she’d been tempted to give me an ultimatum where she’d kick me out and let me live on the streets, but that she wouldn’t actually do that to me (I said I wouldn’t put it past her x_x). 

I said before that I would find a job by the end of February. And I will.

I’m still afraid about the JET stuff—all this time, and I still need to research about Japan, keep up on the current events, do all the things you’re supposed to do. (AGH I FAIL ALREADY). But we’ll see. We’ll get notified/it’ll be posted about interviews soon. Whether or not I have one, I need to gear up.

LET’S GO. NO MORE COMPLACENCY. ARGHLBLARGHL.

So I’m trying to research for JET right now.

Something I had so much time to do.

We’ll be seeing very shortly if we’ve gotten an interview or not.

I’m on tenterhooks. Absolute tenterhooks.

Well, that was awkward.

I could tell mom wasn’t too happy that he was here. Watching Hesher probably didn’t help any. Erk. She’s probably going to grill me later, even though all it was was a visit from a friend while I recover. Sigh. AWKWARD.

Ah, guilt.

Such an overbearing feeling. Poor choice of words. Accidental passive aggression. I’m such a bitch. Just waiting until she gets home; she’ll probably yell at me.

kelela:

daveholmes:

I’d be psyched if we could find ONE ADULT with the common sense and bravery that the writer of this essay and 14-year-old Graeme Miller have shown us in the last week.

FUCKING TRUTH.

You know, I recall seeing that Graeme’s name was pronounced similar to my ex’s. I didn’t have the chance to read what he wrote. But now I’m just flabbergasted because he and my ex basically have the same name.

In essence, as with this article, WHAT IS THIS WORLD COMING TO.