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I am Jack's quiet, constrained rage struggling to burst forth to reap havoc and mayhem.

Sep. 16th, 2014

I don't know why but I've been desperately wanting to ask her a question lately ... Why are you with me? Call it a severe attack of lack of self confidence if it must be labeled.

This morning I wake up and she's not home; she took the kids to school and made breakfast plans, and she has to work at 12 today in St. Louis. I won't see her again until after midnight tonight, when I'm off work.

I'm angry and upset about all this. She could have woke me up and asked me about my work schedule, but didn't. For whatever reason(s).

Instead of telling her all this I'm posting it to this journal that she doesn't know about and internalizing it all like I always do. And to compound matters, I'm force multiplying the depression bender I'm flirting with by watching "Seeking a Friend for the End of the World."

Some days I fucking hate being me.

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Some days she just doesn't understand at all. Doesn't get it, doesn't see it, doesn't pick up what I'm putting down.

And then I explain it to her, and even though my concerns are legitimate and I feel I have every right to feel this way, I still end up feeling like the asshole.

How's that for a kick in the taint?

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I want to punch her in her goddamn throat.

If she'd get her goddamn ass out of Facebook for 3 seconds and look around, once in a while, maybe shit would get done on time.

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I really wish I'd stop pooping long enough to shower and go to work.

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I am so done and tired of the constant back talk and disrespect from this child.

Sooooo bloody done.

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I think I may have broken my hand, or at the very least, bruised the fuck out of it.

Today...I hate my life and wish I wasn't in it.

Tomorrow ... Is tomorrow.

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Earlier today I felt like a chauffeur for my life, just driving the family from place to place that I didn't really have any interest in going to.

Now, I just feel like a wallet with legs.

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The woman is so fucking smart, blah blah whatever, is pissed at someone who's not even here, is fucking at work, told her yesterday she had to work, her goddamn car is fucking gone, and it's ALL MY FAULT FOR NOT SAYING SOMETHING!

So now I'm supposed to point out the blatantly obvious shit too.

I don't want to live on this planet anymore.

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I guess my errands don't matter

A lack of planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on mine.

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