bitchfest, straight on.

little disclaimer before i start here: i do love ireland. i really do. this place is brilliant.
warning: so much fucking swearing ahead that you may want to click away from this goddamn shitty page.
and now, to the point of it:
what the fuck?!?!
ok, i fucking realize that moving is goddamn hard shit. i've done it so many flippin times in my life, that you would think that i would have, oh, i don't know, come to realize that people are fucking pricks no matter where you go?
yeah, we'll you'd be wrong if you thought that.
i thought things could be different.
i thought i could fucking change.
it's not looking that way.
and what the hell is up with white pepper!? get some goddamn black pepper and call it motherfuckin done. shit makes me gag.
two fucking months, two goddamn motherfucking shitty ass months in this place, cramped up in this tiny lavender room with two flatmates who are scared of me because i'm like eight years older than them. my brilliant fucking landlord can't even sort ages properly.
the bitch of it all? at this point in time, i can't stand the sight of my own shadow because it's in ireland. it's here. here it is, along with everything else that's getting under my skin right now.
make fun of me for saying 'store' instead of 'shop.' get over your goddamn self. i didn't come to ireland to be irish. i came here to get some fucking clarity, ok? i'm american, get a fuckin clue.
next item, hanging out with this guy. he and i fuckin talked all night, brilliance. pretty cute, wicked smart, and we're enjoying some whisky, ignoring everyone else in the room for hours as we chatchatchat the night away. granted, he's a bit young for me, whatever... didn't really want to hook up with him. i just really enjoyed finally being able to talk literature with someone who didn't fancy themselves a goddamn academic. you think he even acknowledges me when he sees me on campus? you think he even looks fucking twice in my direction? no. no, he doesn't.
so, i decide, well, i'll talk to him. i'm good at that. guys sometimes are, um, put off on asking me out, and i don't have a problem with that. i go up to him, talk to him, and it's like once the drink evaporated, so did he.
fuck this, that's what i was thinking. a five hour long talk apparently means nothing, and now, i want nothing to do with the only person i thought i connected with here. goddamn motherfucking brilliant.
more whisky for me.
and would you people stop fucking shooting guns off in the middle of the night?! it wakes me up, not to mention scaring the everlivinshit outta me.
and why, for the love of god, do you think when i say that i'm from texas that that means i instantly want to talk politics?! i don't give a shit how bush fucked up the world. i know, good and proper, that bush fucks up everything. you think i want that prick in office? no. you think i voted for that self-proclaimed 'texan'? no. you think i want to talk about this for ten minutes while i'm just tryin to buy some diet coke? no, mr. fuckhead, i certainly do not. you know what i want? i want my goddamn diet coke. give it to me, and let my fuckin state be.
normally, i'm able to handle drunks. even when i'm drunk myself, i can handle drunks like fuckin fine crystal. but if one more guy fuckin touches my neck or my arm, tryin to get a peek at my tattoos, i'm going to bite his nose off. i swear to fucking god. don't fucking touch me when you met me ten minutes prior on your friends' goddamn dare to come talk to me. yeah, i heard that part of the conversation too, poser.
and why, WHY, for the love of all that is holy, do they think that jack daniels is the pinnacle of american whisky?!?!?!?!?!?!?
oh, and i like walking in the rain, but hail?! no way. that's a fuckin dealbreaker right there.
oh, and how the hell you gonna charge me twenty two goddamn quid for a cd? are you mental? have you completely lost your skull? yes. yes i have.
if i hear one more robbie williams song, i'm going to take a baseball bat to the tv.
christ, i need help.
sue me, i don't like goddamn thomas pynchon.
and this place is infested with annoying americans, just like myself. it's like once they step off the plane, any fucking manners, pride or tact they had is checked at customs. shut the fuck up, already. it is not novel at all, nor is it cute, that you're american. some of us are trying to live here and kill the stereotypes that you're condoning.
oh, and that shit they got on the shelves at the supermarket? that, my friend, is not barbeque sauce, that is shitty ketchup with a different label on it.
the word 'pickle' has a completely different meaning. i asked my flatmate to pick up a jar of pickles so that i could make hickory burgers (with the bbq sauce a friend sent me, god save him), and she asked me, 'any preference as to what they're pickled in?' i stared, 'no, forget the pickles. if you have to ask that, i don't want your pickles.'
and no, i don't want to hear about every other texan or american you've ever met.
i can't stand this room any more. it's so ... less. i don't know, i'm reaching some sort of breaking point here, and it's fuckin up or down. remember in labrynth? SHE CHOSE DOWN! yeah, well, guess what, gonna piss these fuckers off. i'm choosin up, baby.
it's comin up too, that point where i'm either gonna make it or break it. this next week, i'm going to be sour goddamn grapes. (oh man, this rant is NOTHING) i can't get quiet. i can't get a moment of fucking quiet, and to be fair, that's all in my head. it's just buzzing. buzzing buzzing buzzing.
yes, moving is hard. yes, i have yet to make any real friends here who i would trust with me at a breaking point.
looks like we're goin alone on this one, sugar, don't it?
tomorrow, november starts, and i hate november. i can't handle november when i'm surrounded by my most loved. this time, i'm going on the defense. watch the fuck out.
all i want is someone who will care about me as much as i care about them. and this is seemingly an impossibility at the moment, because i came here to be alone. i came here to run away. there i said it. i came here, running away from everything i fucking knew. why? because i hated myself there. i hated myself so much that i couldn't stand to be alone in a room with me. couldn't stand the constant taste of defeat in my mouth. and yeah, fuck me, i'm gettin a bit self-deprecating, but you, fuck off, this is my journal, goddammit.
and now, here i am, hahaha, complaining about being alone.
man, i'm a fuckin piece of work aren't i? don't do the crime if you can't do the time right? yeah well, again, fuck off.
i'm sick of it though, honestly. i mean, i've got friends here, but i didn't really think ahead when i made this decision. i thought i was strong enough to handle november without my support system, without rockstar and explorer holding my hand while i screamed. i didn't think ahead, and now, i'm going to have to go to class and hang out with these people and be all not-me ... because it's better than explaining what happened two years ago. because i'm better off crying myself to sleep at night. because fuck this, "i'm not alone, i'm just on my own."
but these motherfuckers, man, how the hell did i think that i was going to start school again. just go into it without a second thought, without him. how the hell did i think i could do it without him?
i can't even breathe.
haha, and i thought that i was ready. i thought that i was something better now, someone who could be with someone else and not completely collapse. i'm back to square one, before i met texas boy, before i could eat a full meal, before i slept through the night. i've reverted straight back to where i was. i haven't moved at all, and that's fucking killing me.
you see, it's not all the little things piling up. it's not the unfamiliarity. it's not the lost security blanket of 'home'. it's me, it's me being a stupid fucking little git who can't believe that life has gone on ... or at least, i don't want to be a part of it.
"1.2.3.4 ... who's punk, what's the score?"
i swear, once i find my real home, i will never leave there again. i envy any of you that have a home. i really do. it's really lonely without one.