One more sip of cough syrup

I've gained - I'm ashamed. That's what sitting on my ass day after day will do. Speaking of my ass, it's getting bigger. Speaking of bigger, my stomach is disgusting. I'm getting fat and it's stressing me out.

I'm having one of those days where I hate myself. It's not pretty. I'm blasting music (specifically, music from Glee - yes I am a dork) and sitting here hunched over at my desk in my hoodie and pajama pants. It's three in the afternoon.

No callbacks, no interviews, no prospects. My hope is fading and it's depressing. It's been almost a month without work, and I'm sure this blog is boring because I am boring. I'm a bored boring unemployed loveless asshole. And did I mention my Dad and I had a huge blowout a couple weeks ago? We haven't spoken since. Which makes living together extremely uncomfortable and terrible. Daddy issues, much?

No wonder I haven't found a guy. I hate my Dad which carries over into my romantic relationships. Meaning I hate men. *Sighs* Goddammit. When will I fix this? The only thing keeping me afloat is therapy. Every three weeks like clockwork. My therapist is fucking helpful. I wish I could see him every week, but money is sort of an issue. I wish I could call him during moments like this. But what would I say? I hate myself, I hate my life, I hate my Dad, I hate the world.

I'm hurting. I'm trying to stay positive (yeah right, you're probably thinking) but it's damn near impossible on days like today. I have shit to do but I don't feel like it. I have no one to talk to right now. Everyone is at work. Oh cruel world, please offer me a olive branch. A chance. A job offer. A friend.

I want to work. I want to contribute to society. I don't want to sit home and suffer, I don't want to feed my fat, I don't want to be crippled by my addiction to marijuana.

I want to stop hating myself. But right now I don't know how. Every time I light up, every time I binge eat, every time I sleep in and don't shower for hours because why not? nowhere to go no one to see, every time I open my eyes from an afternoon nap, every time I look in the mirror, I hate me. Every time I text my ex-boyfriend, every time I daydream about a better life when the dull one I have consumes me, I am miserable. Every minute of every day of every week of every blunt of every sip of beer I am grotesque. Lord help me.