F*&# it all

Woah. Forgot to take my night meds two days in a row and almost had a breakdown. Proof positive that the only thing holding me together are the drugs.

I got a call today from a dear friend who talked to some of the people I've interviewed with and she had some really good advice for me. Easy stuff to fix, nothing bad or scary. Just adds to the frustration, though. I mean, really, are people that petty when they hire? Won't people just look at how qualified I am and how I can articulate that in person and know I can do a job? It's the little things, apparently, like not carrying a purse. Whatever. I'll make sure to do it next time.

But it set me off. I'm so over it. I'm fucking done. I've had an interview a week since I've been unemployed, over 5 months now, and I still don't have a job. And I don't know if any of the prospects out there are good jobs - at this point they all look the same: moving out. That's my goal. I need to get the fuck out of here immediately. I'm sick of living at home. Even if I have to take a job I know I'll hate. Whatever. I'm not above it.

Then my dad and my aunt took it upon themselves to council me about job hunting tonight. They spent 2 hours telling me how to do it. Like I don't know. I'm apparently a professional at it. I can get an interview. I can get a second interview. I just can't get a job. If it's all about dressing to the culture of the area, fine, I'll go buy some pinstripes. Whatever it takes.

But all of it just makes me long for the life I left. It's Jennifer's birthday today and everyone is out with her celebrating, and I'm here. Why the fuck am I here? Oh yeah, I wanted to be closer to family. Well I've discovered, family is overrated. I'm so done.