Jekyll and Hyde

I'm tired, but not as tired as I'll be tomorrow and really not as tired as I'll be on Friday. No matter. It's all the same in the end anyway. Sometimes I amaze myself with my ability to sound so upbeat in real life when I don't really feel upbeat most of the time. I'm like some crazy Jekyll and Hyde. I suppose everyone is, though.

I'm ready to feel something else. I'm tired of feeling ugly and stupid and rejected and dejected. I'm ready to be one of those people who sees the silver lining all the time. Course, we all know those people are idiots because ignorance is bliss. Those people are so fricken happy because they just don't know any better.

So it looks like my roommate got a boyfriend, so the application process is now closed. Better luck next time. But now I'm brought to my next issue, which is why does every woman have a man except for me? What is my fucking problem? I'm not horribly disfigured, I'm still within birthing years (although I'm too old now to donate eggs, so that whole thing is overwith), and I'm reasonably intelligent. Yes, I'm broke. I have nothing to offer. Not even youth and beauty. So I guess that's maybe my answer.

But I can sit through a movie without talking and I can more than hold up my end of a conversation and I like lots of different kinds of music and I can drive a car without crashing it. I guess that's it. The other stuff I can think of isn't really good stuff. I still think I have the mark of the spinster. It's there, glowing red under the skin of my forehead and only men can see it. Maybe dogs too. There's no escape, so I have to make an excuse and talk about education and career and pretend none of that other stuff is important to me.

I came close to it once, and once got burned. But that doesn't mean I want to live in the cold.