anotherlongshot (anotherlongshot) wrote,
anotherlongshot
anotherlongshot

i. need. money.

I find out today that I only have $77 left in my bank account. That's not nearly enough for two pieces of clothing. What the hell. I'm so damn screwed that it's not funny anymore. The last time this happened to me, I was fresh out of bloody junior college and in the midst of a self-congratulatory shopping trip when I checked my account balance and discovered that I only had, like, 20-something dollars left. You have no idea how utterly depressed I was after that.

SHIT SHIT SHIT. I NEED MONEY SO BADLY THAT I'M AT A LOSS OF THE APPROPRIATE WORDS TO DESCRIBE MY DESPONDENCE; HENCE I'M RESORTING TO TYPING IN ALL CAPS SO AS TO CONVEY THE DEPTHS OF MY DESPERATION AND SADNESS AND GLOOMY...NESS.

Why does life suck so hard? Why am I too lazy to find a proper job?

Seventy-seven dollars, for crying out loud. And there I was, thinking I still had a good two hundred bucks to go before I declare myself bankrupt. I'm so desperate that I'm going for an interview at some modelling agency, though chances are I'm way too fat to model. Shit. I can't believe this is happening to me again.

I swear, my mom totally gave me her spendthrift gene. Of course, that was when she had a relatively high-paying job and could afford to splurge every now and then. The difference between her and me is, of course, that I don't have a high-paying job; never did, probably never will, LLB (Hons) or otherwise (since, you know, I'm not gonna be a lawyer or anything like that, because I'd seriously rather die).

And the worst part of this entire fiasco? I don't even know where my stupid money went.

I need clothes! I need books! I need DVD! I need spending power! I need money! Someone help me!

This is ridiculous.

**

Here's a tip: Don't make promises you never intended to keep.

**

Here's a tip for myself: Don't go out with people whom you can't afford to lose.

Even better: Don't go out with people whose affection you can't take, which would only make you run in the opposite direction.

I think I am the biggest moron ever. By moron, I mean emotional retard. Sexual idiot. I should've got laid ten million years ago, for god's sake. This is ridiculous. I am ridiculous. WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS WRONG WITH ME.

I'm telling you, the urge I had to just run away that day was the strongest in quite a while. This is what I do best, you see: when things get a little bit intense my first instinct is to bolt. And there I was, whining on and on about how I want drama in my life, and when I was really confronted with drama I decided that I didn't want to deal.

I still don't want to deal. I leave them waiting and trick them into thinking I don't care, when in fact I think about them all the time. And I don't really know why, and I have a faint idea that I'm using them, that it's not them I want but what they represent. The feeling of being worshipped - I've missed it. It's so egotistical and disgusting but I've missed it and I like it. It makes me feel wanted...even better, it makes me feel desired. And I would've given in but I didn't, couldn't, because I knew it was wrong, or at least not right.

Even if you'd stayed and I'd gone along with you, I'd be using you. Nothing more, nothing less. That's why I pulled back that day, wanted desperately to leave, haven't contacted you at all.

I'm a trainwreck. We'd be like Marissa Cooper and Kevin Volchok (and no, I can't believe I'm using an OC reference. God help me), a disaster waiting to happen.

Well, what does it matter.

**

Strange, isn't it, that the only guy that's truly wanted me in a really, really long time is currently 9539 miles away.

Needless to say, if I felt the same way, I'd only be in it for the physical gratifications.

I feel sick to my stomach.

I want to be normal.
Tags: angst, guys, money
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