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. .
. . just fucking charming .
. Bridget asked me how I was doing. I told her I was fucking swamped. She told me, "Yeah, I know the feeling."

Fuck you. You should fucking try this on for awhile.

But I suppose everything is relative . . .

And she follows up everyone of my complaints with some generic "everyone feels that way" or "it'll be okay" response, which just pisses me off further.

Why am I always waiting for someone to tell me that I'm horrible and petty and mean and I just need to shut the fuck up?

I've been plagued lately by this feeling that I'm intellectually cheating myself and that, because of this, nothing is going to pan out the way I intend it too and I'll just end up being come wretched cubicle bitch who hates her life.

I'm also very angry right now at a lot of fucking things and I'm having to deal with the side-effects of repression because I am not assertive and I can never seem to just lay the smack down.

Sometimes I wish I could just be senselessly violent.

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