Bad Liar.

Have you ever met a liar? I mean a true one. A person where every single word out of their mouth is untrue? I have. For the first time in my life I’ve met a person where, no matter what sentence they form, is false. It’s the most frustrating thing. I mean, we all lie. That’s just a natural thing I think. But why lie about where you worked. Or people being sick. Or people dying. What’s the fucking point? And don’t they know that everyone sees right through their bullshit? How can they not know that they are fooling NOONE? It is the worst thing imaginable. I hate that this person takes something minor and turns it into something SO big just to make it look real. And the sad thing is, when they finally decide to tell the truth on something, not one person is going to believe them.

A part of me wants to, well, just be me. I want to tell them to just shut the fuck up. I want to tell them that they have nobody fooled. I just want to call them a damn liar. Now I know that the best course of action is to ignore it. But now their lies are personally affecting me. I guess in reality they have been affecting me for a while now. I have to pick up their slack and work for them and I’m constantly being pushed to the brink of just losing my shit while they just get to walk around and chill and act like they are doing something important. That’s something else that just gets under my skin and crawls.

I really hope that I have the strength to keep it together for a little while longer. Because keeping my mouth shut is by far the hardest thing that I have to deal with. And that’s saying something because I have cancer.




Have you ever wondered why we take out our frustrations on the people closest to us? I think it’s because we are comfortable with them. We know that they are friends with us or that they love us enough to be able to express how we really feel. But what happens when enough is enough? What happens when they no longer feel like dealing with the brunt of our bad days? Our sour moods? It truly is a fine line between love and hate.

I haven’t been to work in 3 days. I’ve been sick as hell. But even with all the shots and the antibiotics, the over the counter medicine and the sleep, I still feel horrible. While I’ve been at home trying to get better, work has been crazy apparently. Lots of changes going on, people possibly losing their jobs or being forced to step down and go else-where. It really makes me wonder if I want to stay with a company that is so fickle. How can you threaten someone’s livelihood like that? It seems a little unfair. I don’t want anyone to lose their job, even if I don’t like them.

My store manager seems to be up shits creek, too. Which part of me feels like finally, the karmic cycle is taking it’s stance. And the other part of me fears she will no longer be employed. However, as mean as it may sound, if anyone is to be unemployed it would best be her. She doesn’t have her own home or bills. She lives with her parents and has no responsibilities. It’s not like someone who is the sole bread winner, with a family and a mortgage and car notes.

Just to be clear, I’m not rooting for anyone to get in trouble or lose their jobs. I just feel like when you treat people like shit for so long, well, you get what comes to you. The bed you’ve been making? Well, It’s finally time that you have to lie in it.

Good Riddance.



Rather Be.

Trust and the benefit of the doubt are luxuries to some people. A gift even. Everyone has their own story – their own version of the truth, a rationale for how they act. Because everyone has a unique perspective.

Things have been rough lately. I’m at a constant, raging war against myself. Somehow, I’m losing. My friends haven’t really been my friends lately, or so it feels. I’ve managed to make it through the work day, but the second I get alone in the car I’m a complete wreck. I cry myself to sleep. I have nightmares. I wake up with puffy, red, dark circled eyes. I don’t really understand what’s changed so much in the last couple of months. I have a hard time getting out of my bed. I go to sleep at night with dark thoughts, hoping that I don’t wake up. I’m disappointed every morning that my eyes decide to flutter open. I go through the motions. Brush my teeth. Throw on some mascara. Drive to work. “No, you can’t have that day off”. “Yes, follow the One Best Way”. Smile. Wave. “Hi, How are you?” “Yes, I’m fine.”

I go to the doctor, I’ve managed to fool all of them too.

“Everything is WONDERFUL! I hang out with my friends when I’m sad. I love my job. Everything is finally starting to look up!” When in fact, it’s the exact opposite. I go to my radiation treatments. I tell them “I’m going to get through this. I’m not feeling any of the effects. I feel so lucky”. And they say “Brooklyn, you are so brave and positive.” And then they follow up with grave news. But I don’t dare cry, not yet. I smile and say “Oh it’s okay. Thank you so much for everything that you have been doing for me” They try to pry and ask questions. They wonder why I show up every week alone. I always have an excuse. But the truth is there’s no-one to go with me. No support system. No backbone. I am my own backbone. But I don’t dare tell them these things. They hug me and talk to me. I see the look in their eyes. It’s hopelessness. They actually pity me. I fucking hate it. But I smile and hug them back, they send me on my way.

It’s at night, when I’m alone, that things come crushing down. I’ve been pregnant, and he disappeared for the most part. I’m lonely. I’m dying, slowly. I’m empty. I’m sad. And the same thing I repeat to myself, over and over and over, even now, is simply this: I don’t want to be alone. Yet somehow, I know that is exactly what I deserve. To be alone.

In the end, while most people dig to unearth the truth. I strive to bury it.