The road to self pity is paved with assholes...

Wow, I was feeling really shitty this morning. Worst part is, I am not feeling much better right now. I honestly can't say why. Well, I can't point to ONE particular thing that started me down this self pity road, it just happens sometimes. Maybe I should see a doctor, maybe I am bipolar. Or maybe, once in awhile someone could see that I am having a shitty day, and care enough to fucking be there for me. But apparently that is just too much to fucking ask for. As much as I make myself available for my friends and family in need, you would think one of them would see me crying and ask if they could help. But really, they all just go on like it isn't happening. What the hell is up with that behaviour? I am thinking the next time anyone asks me for anything, to do anything, or even just wants to spend time with me, I am going to tell them to fuck off, because honestly, I am just fed up with everyone's bullshit. The women in my life seem to only care about what I can do for them, what problems of their's I can solve. They are not capable of listening to me when I need to talk, not capable of giving back to me all that I give to them (emotionally). And all the men in my life are even worse. They want to spend alot of time with me as long as I cater to their egos and play constant cheerleader to their lives, but let me need a shoulder to cry on, or a warm pair of arms to just hold me for awhile, and they are all busy with other things, or just don't seem to notice that anything is wrong. Either that, or they just don't care. I swear, I honestly considered just leaving for work today, and then getting a hotel room for a few days, just to give myself a break. I couldn't do it though. I couldn't, because the only person who even noticed that I was not myself today was my sweet Kylie. A three year old. Not the hubby. Not my father. Not my "best" friend. No one at work. Not even my honey (he wouldn't have noticed because he hasn't called in so long, not that he would have noticed anymore than anyone else did, anyway.) No one noticed except my baby. (Yes, she is three and she is still MY BABY!) She crawled into my lap. Put one hand on each of my cheeks, looked me in the eye, and asked "Are you sad, Momma?". "Yes", I answered. She didn't ask why, she didn't look away, or walk away. She sat there holding my face, put her forehead to mine, and told me that she loved me. Then she kissed me, and cuddled into my arms, and just sat with me awhile. When she did get up to leave, she kissed my cheek and said, "You can be happy tomorrow, Momma. Okay?" "Okay.", I answered her. See, my baby understands. That's why I can't run away. Or give up. Or any of the other crazy things that I sometimes think about doing. Thank God for Kylie. That's all. Goodnight.