February 2, 2012

Fuck You, You Fuckin' Fuck

Remember the old Ashley Morris blog after Katrina, when senators and other helpfuls from “The North” were suggesting we not be allowed to come home and that New Orleans shouldn’t be rebuilt?  It was called “Fuck You, You Fucking Fucks.”  I always loved that.  They even put it on Treme and I loved it again even harder.  Well, that’s me today.  That’s all I really have to say, or want to say.  Fuck You, You Fucking Fuck!!  I’m not mad at anyone on this earth.  In fact, I have wonderful, glorious family and friends around me.  But I have a mean case of PMS and I’m just…..angry….and bitter….and pitiful.  I feel sorry for myself today.  Like if I saw me walking down the street and was another person, I would painfully turn away from me and get in my car and cry and just say…God, she’s so pitiful.  I DON’T WANT TO BE A SINGLE PARENT.  I JUST DON’T.  I REALLY DON’T THINK I CAN DO THIS FOR YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS.  I WILL GO CRAZY AND PULL MY HAIR OUT AND FOAM FROM THE MOUTH AND BE CAPTURED BY THE POLICE AND HOSPITALIZED AND THEY WILL TIE ME UP AND SHOOT ME WITH DARTS AND DO ELECTRIC SHOCK TREATMENTS ON ME.  I really might go that crazy.  This sucks in UNIMAGINABLE ways.  For any of the man readers out there…let me just say if you do not help your wife with YOUR CHILDREN 5000% percent everyday I am personally going to find out about it and kick your ever lovin’ ass.  I’m so not kidding.  I could cut a bitch right now.  I fucking hate Dave so much.  I am so full of hate that merely walking past a department store Men’s section makes me mutter “I hate you asshole!” under my breath.  The mere sight of tools, the Craftsman logo, anything to remind me of him immediately causes me to boil over with hatred and curse him.  I want to be in a better mood.  I try to be in a better mood.  I try to relax the scowl on my face and think of my many blessings.  And all I’ve got is “Fuck You, You Fucking Fuck!”  I might even be becoming insane, because ten minutes after I hate on him I cry because I love him and miss him.  In desperation, I’ve decided that I will try to turn this slump into my required holiday pre-panic state.  If I pre-panic, prior to the actual holiday, about the holiday itself, then it seems to lessen the burden on the day of the holiday.  Valentine’s Day is around the corner.  So Yay for you, you bunch of fucking fucks who have lovers and husbands and wives.  I won’t get chocolate or lobster or steak or champagne …not from him anyway.  You can bet your ass I’ll be buying that shit and more for myself and consuming huge amounts of it.  And I pray to God I won’t be sad, and that I’ll be laughing a real laugh and enjoying my 3 little boyfriends.  I know he was crazy that day.  I know he would take it back if he could.  I know he thought I could do this…and now he surely sees I CAN’T.  SO WHAT EXACTLY ARE YOU GOING TO DO NOW, YOU FUCKING FUCK????  I CAN’T DO IT.  EVEN THOUGH I KNOW I CAN.  I JUST DON’T WANT TO.  BECAUSE I COULD DO IT BETTER IF YOU WERE HERE.  AND NOW I HAVE TO DO IT SHITTY…BEING CRAZY AND TIRED AND MEAN AND WITH SELF LOATHING.  AND THEREIN LIES THE DILEMMA.  TRYING TO MAKE ME DO SOMETHING I DON’T WANT TO DO.  YOU HAVE ALTERED MY DESTINY. MY WHOLE LIFE.  YOU FUCKING FUCK.

1 comment:

  1. Oh God, girl.....I so understand. I was widowed when my children were 11 & 12....not suicide, but I just woke up and found him dead. He died in his sleep.....AND I was so afraid of screwing up everything and hating being alone more than anything. Even though he had no control over his death, I resented being left alone. Had it been suicide, I could have written your post.

    Now, here I am widowed again......just don't seem right. I want to say WTF??? I mean 'widowed' twice?
    Blessings girl...♥