Caterwauling

“And if you ask me,

I’ll keep saying that I am fine

So just don’t ask.

And if you see me,

I’ll keep flashing that winning smile

‘Cause that’s my mask.”

— Tara MacLean, “That’s Me” —

I’m tired of pretending things are all right, when they’re not. And acting like I give a shit about people and things when I don’t have the heart to care about anything related to my own life. Or maybe it’s that I care too much about my issues that I just want to smack other people till they fall silent and retreat. For awhile, I thought I was on the right track and that I was making the right decisions … I’ve come to the conclusion that I am going to spend the rest of my days convincing others … and myself … that my decisions were the best ones that could have been made. And concurrently, I’ll work on undoing the damage that I’ve done.

I’ve made it my habit to date accountants for a reason … I just checked my bank statement online and was once again confounded by my lack of addition-and-subtraction skills. I was hoping to have a bit of a cushion to at least afford to send my mother a birthday cake, since I’ll be missing her b-day next week. Hell, I even contemplated buying a cake and driving up to Pgh tomorrow, just for kicks. I guess that’s out of the question. And it’s not like I spend money like I used to … but I forgot I took out a couple of bucks a few weeks ago (“survival” money) and I forgot a purchase of catty litter and three Hallmark cards and a very small b-day trinket for Mom … nothing like the usual gifts I like to lavish upon her. It’s just so fucking sad that such tiny transactions literally screwed up my entire account. I hate living like this. This isn’t living, although at this point, I don’t know what “living” is. 🙁 I want my mommy, and I am too afraid to drive this weekend without a buck in my pocket. Gawd, I’m pathetic.