Zrighteous

like you don’t fit in?

like no matter how hard you try or don’t try, it’s not right?

like everyone around you is better than you to someone because:

-they’re more laid back
-they smoke pot
-they’re funnier
-they take more risks
-they’re more agreeable
-they drink a lot
-they dress more provacative
-they’re slutty
-they’re dumber

i’m so sick of feeling jealous of stuff i don’t even want to be.

Help me fill the void.

They all say the same stuff in the beginning.  You start to believe it.  Why do people say things they don’t mean?  I realize things will fade some, naturally, but the extent of the fade in my situations is getting comical.  And I’m simply too fragile to handle these events.

It’s like I can’t catch a break.  They really have been one after the other.  You start to question if it’s you. 

No one wants to be around a mopey person, but sometimes it’s straight hard to come out of it.  All you feel like doing is curling up in a ball and asking “why me?  why this again?”  Nothing consoles you, because all you want is that one person to see what’s wrong and fix it.  Come back and say how stupid they’ve been.  Do it all right, realizing what they’d be losing.

“sorry.  sometimes i don’t realize how hurtful i am.”  Such a beautiful moment.  Only to be taken away again the very next day.

I wish I were stronger.

Some library patrons give me hope.  They restore some of my damaged faith in people. 

- The ones who come in with their spouses of over 30 years and read together.
- The young, lone boy who checks out poetry books and Ernest Hemingway novels.
- My self-adopted grandpa who comes in to socialize and read the paper.  He brings me desserts also.
- The men who religiously pick up their wives’ romance books for them.
- The die-hard certain author fans who push their books unto me.  I admire your devotion.  Even if I have no desire to read them.
- People who bring their kids just to read to them and play with them in the kid’s section.  I love good parenting.
- In reference to good parenting, I love those well-mannered kids.

So many more.  I’ve made so many friends here.  So many influences.  I love this job because I know I’ll look back on it fondly.  Remembering everyone I’ve known. 

Did I mention I work with my grandma too?  haha.  It’s an interesting situation. 

by a love I can’t afford to lose.

and I can’t say that I like it, but

what else am I supposed to do?

(Lauren O’Connell)

Sometimes it feels like I’m the only one who listened to those guest speakers and lectures in school about drugs and alcohol. I know there’s others who think the same out there, but I so rarely see them.

I wish people could see what I see.

I would like to have someone to read to. To have someone willing to lay with me and read with me would be quite an experience.

move away.  Start over. 

I think I’m two people.

Half the time I want to be crazy, fun, no worries, bold.  I want to stand out, not care what people think, spit, be wild. 

The other half I want to be classy, not cuss, be a lady.  I want to be the epitome of woman, like an “Audrey Hepburn.”

I suppose I’ll accept being a good mix of both.  I’ll classily spit.  I’ll have the piercings but dress classy.  Perhaps a contradiction is what I really am, and that’s okay.  Who says you can’t be both?

80 year old dementia patient turned to his wife randomly.

“We’ve had a good life together, haven’t we?”

“Of course we have,” the wife said.

“And we’re gonna continue it, too,” he stated.

My heart softened and melted and broke consecutively.

A 25 year old child-man came to the library today looking tired, sweaty, and defeated.  Apparently his bike had been stolen, and he wanted to search Craigslist for a new one. 

First, he couldn’t get on Craigslist because he didn’t know how to spell Craig.  I was sympathetic.  Next, he wanted to print a picture of a Dyno bike he wanted to purchase, but didn’t have money for the print.  Sympathetic again.  Bike found, picture printed. 

He left, only to come back and say, “how would I get a hold of him?  There’s no number on here.”  My coworker and I explained he would have to email the “reply-to” address to contact the poster.  He explains he “doesn’t know how to do all that email stuff.”  All of this so far has been face-palm worthy, but I feel sympathy for the kid (man), so I’m quite patient.  I offer to set him up an email account and show him the ropes.

We head to the computers, and I begin.  I notice he’s easily distracted, barely listening to me, and is just focused on the bike and how “expensive it is.”  $100.  More sympathy.  I’m trying to set up his security question.  I choose first pet’s name.  Damian, a snake, he says, but doesn’t know how to spell it.  So I set it to how I would, and write it down so he can remember.  He says he sold him for $40.  He needed the money.  How sad.  But I ask “why sell your pet?  Do you have a job to get money instead?” 

No.  Of course not.  “Then I wouldn’t get my check.”

“What check sir?” 

“My ADD check.”

Oh.  So.  You aren’t taking medicine for ADD to be able to get a job and make money instead of just being paid to do nothing and be “disabled?”  Of course I didn’t say that.  But he acted like “why would I work when I can just get that check for doing nothing?”  Face-palms begin. 

I try to tell myself that he is quite illiterate as it is, and a job would actually be quite difficult.  Finger-pecking the keyboard, not listening to me, couldn’t repeat the simple tasks.  Though I also deduct that his illiteracy stems from lack of ADD treatment, unwillingness to learn, no desire for independency, etc. 

He continues to talk about the price of the bike, how expensive it is.  Proceeds to say, “man, I don’t have a dollar for a soda.”  The bro walks everywhere, no job/no car, and it’s crazy hot, so despite previous face-palm, offensive statements, I started to feel slight sympathy again, as it seemed like a plea for a drink, and we have bottled water here. 

“Yeah, I spent all my money on beer last night,” stated while smiling, as if very proud of himself.

Face.  Palm.  Central.  Oh, you mean the ADD disability money you simply can’t live without?

I think we’re done here.  Figure your stuff out on your own now, sir.  Illiterate.    Job refusal.  No attempt at task retention.  Sells his pets.  Disability check.  Uses said money on beer. 

What a disgrace. 

If you’re going to lie, you better get a lot better at it, honey. 

Some little girl just asked me for a paperclip at the library.  She said she wanted it to mark a place in her book.  So i said “why not a bookmark?”  She didn’t say anything.  I handed her the paperclip and left it alone.  Her and her friends continued looking sketchy, sans any books mind you.  Later she came back up to rent a movie.  I said, “so what was the paperclip really for?”  “Um, uh, I had to go outside and put papers together.” 

Bitch, you 10.  What kind of papers could you possibly be putting together, outside, when it’s 90 degrees?  While being babysat mind you.