After about six days at home, I have to go back to work this morning, soon as I can get everything together. Since I'm writing a blog post instead of actually packing things up and heading back to the truck, that's probably indication enough that I really would rather not be going back to work today. My time at home here has been little more than a waste of time. I needed the break from work, but this was about as much a break as it was solitary confinement for most of the week, leaving me even more depressed and emotionally screwed up than I was before getting here. When I got home I was actually looking forward to having the week off due to various plans that had been made, people I wanted to see, and things I wanted to do. Having had most of those plans scrapped, most people ignore me, and most things left undone, I want my week back, or at least another couple of days.
The beach party - the one signature event this weekend - was okay. Not great, as I'm sure everyone else would say, but okay. Stephie was a lovely host, so this is certainly nothing against her. I just, once again, found myself surrounded by so-called friends and getting ignored by most of them. On at least one occasion, I found that everyone else had clustered into two or three for conversation and nobody would even respond when I tried adding something, no matter what I said or who I said it to. The person I'd given a ride to - after two days of trying to convince him to come over earlier - was one of the worst culprits; I could barely get a response out of him at all on Saturday and he was even less polite about ignoring me Sunday, as he seemed quite irritated any time I tried getting his attention. Needless to say, I won't even waste my breath giving him the time of day in the future.
Outside of that big event, there really was very little to mention. I managed to make a trip to the eye doctor on Tuesday or Wednesday, but that was the only thing I actually accomplished all week. I didn't tend to any other medical or mental needs. I didn't even get out of the house just to go and do something out there for sake of being more active. No exercise, no wandering the mall, no going to a casino, not a damn thing. I had tried to get someone - anyone - to come over to watch TV and hang out, but not a single person responded in the affirmative. On Friday I spent an hour talking with someone on the phone and brought up the possibility, ending the conversation with the understanding we'd be in touch in an hour. When I called when a little over an hour had passed, he ignored his phone twice. Nobody else had even given me that much, though. A couple people didn't even respond to an instant message when I tried to get hold of them, while others gave various reasons they couldn't or didn't want to, some more plausible than others. One all but said he wanted to get into my pants and then got offended when I suggested I'd have a similar interest.
As a result of all this, plus more things that I would prefer not to write about here, I went from being in a pretty decent mood when I got home a week ago to feeling like complete and utter shit right now. I don't want to go back to work. I really don't want to even breathe any longer because I'm little more than a waste of this planet's precious resources. It's become painfully obvious that I'm not wanted around here, but due to my circumstances, I don't have anywhere else to go. I've an ever decreasing number of reasons not to simply drive off a bridge somewhere and disappear from this planet.
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