And the Moral of the Story Is...

I hate being home.

I hate, hate, hate, hate, hate it.

I mean I really, really fucking hate it.

The reasons are completely selfish, I know, but this is my blog and if I want one night to bitch then god dammit I will have that night.

Let's start with the obvious: work. Work sucks. We all know that. Anyone that says that actually, 100% loves their job is either full of shit or should be shot for being so lucky. Right before they are shot I must inject them with sodium pentathol so that I can find out what, exactly, makes them capable of loving their job.

Whatever that may be, it is obviously not related to retail. In retail you constantly have to deal with people, keeping their complaints in check while also keeping your own temper/ego in check. Thus, when someone directly insults you, you cannot just go off on them. No, no, no. You must maintain your composure. You have to make sure that you do not let them get to you, resolve the situation, and then talk loads of shit about them behind their backs. That is the only way to handle it...or be fired.

So, today, when a foreigner of unknown (Western European) descent called me a retard and an idiot, the upholder of a stupid, ignorant system, I had to sit there and let them insult me. Then I had to explain to them, once again, that without an original receipt I cannot, under any circumstance (to include threats of violence) give them cash back. It is that way in every single retail store IN THE COUNTRY! I don't give a shit if it is not that way in Slovakia or wherever, but that is the way it fucking works here. GET OVER IT!

Whew...I feel no better.

I guess the reason that I feel no better is because I feel I am lacking a support system. Most of my friends are either back at school, too busy with their own new lives, or not at all interested in hanging out with me. Maybe it is withdrawal from the pot-smoking life I so enjoyed at school, a life that has been forcefully ripped from me by an inability to find any fucking weed, or maybe it is the constant nagging of the people I work with. I really have no idea.

However, I do have my suspicions as to what may have caused my recent, violent mood shift. I think it is that the friends I had, who I had made my life for the past 11 years of living in this shit-hole town, no longer seem interested in hanging out.

No one calls...I call them. That is exhausting and unfair. It should be reciprocal. Now, I don't want everyone to think this is about them. I can tell you who it isn't about, and they live in MD. I am talking about my good ol' southern friends who no longer seem to exist. When I call, they don't answer. When they do answer and we make plans, they flake out (you, especially) know who you are.

Yet, for these friends, I have covered shifts, kept them informed as to their job status (thus violating certain confidences, but hey, it's for a friend), and gone out of my way to make their lives better in any way I possibly can. Hell, the friends who have had to put up with the most, by far, still call.

So I am here to say I feel like I have been walked all over, and I am done. This is really about maturity. I have no problem clarifying my feelings for people, should the need arise, and I feel that the same courtesy should be done for me. I deserve at least that.

I know I am not always the easiest person to get along with. That is fine. I get it. But at least fucking tell me that you aren't going to answer my calls, return my messages, or meet me at the previously scheduled time after I have driven 30 minutes (once again, you, especially, know who you are).

Overall, I am really lonely. Hanging out with friends once a week is not enough. Coming home to the dog and my football-watching father every night after work is not enough. I can't take much more. It makes me feel like shit. It makes me feel like the life I once had will never, ever come back. It really makes me feel like I have wasted years of my life building these relationships that no one else seems interested in maintaining.

Of course, I have done the same thing to other people, and I know it. Yet, I think this break, especially, I have done my best to repair the damage done. With a few people, this has proved very fruitful and with several others, fruitless. I get that. I had my chance and I blew it (not that it is one-sided, mind you). I guess that is what happens.

Now I am begging. If you say you are going to call, call. If you say you are going to meet me somewhere, meet me somewhere. If you say you want to hang out that night but then make other plans (WHILE I AM STANDING RIGHT THERE) then cancel those other plans. If you don't want to hang out, say so. If you do, call. Just don't, please, lead me on. I am not that fragile but at this point it is breaking my heart. At least if I know that I am going to be coming home to the dog and my football-watching father then I can resign myself to it, instead of looking forward to something all day, only to have that dream ripped out from under me because someone won't answer their fucking phone.

I am no flower...I can take it.