Raging and Venting at Wit's End.

It's kind of funny.

But it's really not.

You know, one of these days I'll learn better. But tonight I guess I just forgot.

It's funny in that I went through this same crap years ago. It's funny that when I went through it then, I swallowed it and took it because I thought things would get better.

Ha. Haha. Fucking hilarious, Dani. You're a friggin' idiot.

I wanted someone to talk to today. Why? Stupid reasons.

Reason #1: I was upset in general. Down and out. But hey, who gives a damn?

Reason #2: I've been feeling a bit upset since we were told that the rescue we sent Caesar to lost him. Lost him. We found his owner, and the fucking rescue lost him.

Reason #3: The Columbus authorities fucked up the investigation into the death of our great-aunt and are trying to cover their asses about it, fooling my family into thinking the case still has some sort of chance. Well, guess what? It fucking doesn't.

Reason #4: Because I'm an idiot and thought it'd cheer me up.

But instead I got nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. But that's fine... I'll lay down and take it like the pansy little bitch that I am. Ha. Haha. I'm so fucking pathetic. I waited all day for nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing.

Am I being selfish? Oh, quite possibly. Probably so. But hey, who cares, right? It didn't matter today and it won't matter tomorrow. Nope, tomorrow we'll pretend like nothing ever fucking happened, because we're so used to sticking our goddamn heads in the sand like we're ostriches.

I'm tired of sticking my head in the fucking sand. I'm tired of suffocating on sand. I'm tired, tired, tired of it.

I'm so close to throwing up my hands and saying "fuck it all" that it's not even funny. Why? Because it's slowly become just like the situation I was trapped in years ago, when I was an idiot and didn't know better. When I was a pathetic little girl who'd let people walk all over her. When I was stuck with someone who put me in the back of his mind just because I was pathetic enough to let him.

Why do I want to be the last resort? Why do I want to be the one that people go, "Eh, I don't feel like dealing with her today so I won't." Why would I want to be the one people don't give a damn about? Huh? Anyone want to tell me?

When you come up with the answer to my questions, come find me and tell me.

I'm not going to be treated like a throw-away. I don't care how attached I think I am, I refuse to be the trash that people simply step on and throw away without caring what it does to my psyche. Fuck knows that my psyche has been damaged enough without careless people bending me until I break. God fucking knows I don't need it.

I want to know I'm respected, cared for, loved, and worth the time. And if I'm not, do me a favor and tell me so.

So that I'm not wasting my life waiting all day for someone who isn't going to give me the time of day anyway.

I genuinely hope you feel better tomorrow. But don't be surprised if you're given the same treatment tomorrow that you gave me today.

In fact, you can halfway expect it.