I need this to be a one night bump.

I am so fucking pissed. Yup, come read a few blog entries then gather like fucking cackling hens to talk about how much better you are than the mentally ill woman.

I hope you feel very good about yourselves. Clearly you are superior to me in every way. That’s fine. I can live with that.

I don’t need this to be a competition. If it is a competition, fine. I lose. Can we move on now? Are we still in grammar school? This isn’t even high school level snark. I know. I went to five then worked in them. High school kids are usually mature enough to leave mentally ill people alone. Grammar school kids pick them as a target.

Ask me how I fucking know.

Yes. You have not done the terrible things I have done. I know. You are better than me. I know.

There really isn’t a lot I can do about that.

It doesn’t really matter that I’m a fucking piece of shit. I have to wake up tomorrow and smile brightly and coax a very reluctant three year old through potty training. I have to clean some bedrooms because holy crap I haven’t finished unpacking. This will take a week or more. I feel like I’m drowning. I have to help a five year old learn how to use scissors. I have to help a six year old work on reading. I have to help a seven year old work on printing because it’s time.

My to do list is about as long as my arm. I have 93 other tasks I want to get done in the next two weeks. And you know what, I’ll get them done. Because I’m going to have a big god damn party with the very large number of people who think I’m god damn fantastic. And when they walk into my house… there will be comments of “Wow I love what you’ve done.” Utterly predictable every year. Because I always change things. Because I barely stop working long enough to sleep.

Because it really don’t matter that you think I’m a piece of shit. It doesn’t matter if you are better than me. I am here and you are not. My children need me and they don’t need you. So it doesn’t really matter that you are better.

There is nothing for me to actually win or lose here. My life will continue on with or without your approval. But I’ll tell you plain that knowing that a bunch of women, including someone I tried to befriend think it is fun to sit around and talk shit about me…

Well. There are reasons I believe people instantly when they say folks are mean to them or they were abused. People are fucking mean. The average human being likes to be mean for sport.

I really don’t have time for such nonsense.

I’ve got bigger fish to fry. And more important people to care about. Instead of pointing the finger at strangers on the internet I look around the people who actually fucking stand near me and I try to help wherever I can.

So judge the hell out of me. I guess it’s a hobby. I guess you need to have something to do with your time. Uhm. Ok then.

You do you. That will give me all the more reason to do me.

Edit to add: ok high school kids are that mean. I shouldn’t lie.

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