I'm really angry and really tired and hate absolutely everything and everyone.

I went to subway yesterday and it was horrible.
So I went again to make it "right".

What does that even mean? "Right". Why did I have to make it right? It was such a serious thing too. Like, the same guys were working and I explained why I was there again, and of the fact that my sub had to be right this time. And that it was really reallllly important to me.

And while I was ordering it, "that footlong please" "is that bread soft?" "no, cheese on the top" "more green peppers" "like, two more banana peppers" "a little bit of onion, no like, a little" "lots of mayo... one more line" "this cookie", I was so frustrated at myself.

Like, I didn't even want subway. But I had to recreate what was supposed to be yesterday. And it had to be right.

BUT FUCK, even writing this right now is frustrating, BECAUSE IT'S SO GOD DAMN STUPID AND POINTLESS. Embarrassing, and picky, and controlling, and unnecessary.

And the sub wasn't even right... they squished the bread when they wrapped it up...

I'm realizing that when you're on your own too much, and have too much control of your world, you don't notice when you're too particular with things. But when you do, omg.

With work it's so bad too. When customers mess up the clothes, or a co-worker doesn't detail things correctly.

The scarves bother me the most. Followed by when the tanks are messed up, and then when the hangers aren't straight because someone just shoved the hanger back in the mess of clothes.

Or when the hanger is flipped so it's hooked on the opposite side. Or a zipper is unzipped, or a button unbuttoned.

Living with OCD would be sooo frustrating.

Speaking of work though, I took this bitch's shift on Friday (my day off) because she said she had a funeral to attend, but then she called in sick today, and I also learnt today that she has a really bad habit of this. SO. THIS BITCH, GOT THE WHOLE THANKSGIVING WEEKEND OFF, AND I DIDN'T?

So pissed.

But let's make it worse, shall we? Next weekend I work: Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I was supposed to have those days off so I could go home. This is fucking bulllllllllshit.

I was fuming when I found that out. FUCKING. FUMING. And I still am! The more I think about it, the angrier I get. I think I'll just go home after work tomorrow, come back next week. Let them deal with covering my shifts. If it's a problem, then I just won't fucking come back.

I need to just go, get away. I DON'T WANT TO BE STILLLLLLL. I don't even want to go home really. I just want to drive for forever.

Or sleep for forever.

My soul is so tired.

Life is fucking stupid and too long. And fucking lonely.

I was supposed to go to Thanksgiving dinner at Morgan's house tonight, but her family invited too many people I guess so I didn't get to go.

My problem is that I believe everyone when they say things. Whole-heartedly too, so when things don't work out, it hits hard.

And school is dumb. I don't even remember the last time I did any school work. I hateeeeeee it. I hate everything!

Fuck, I'm going to bed. I'm pissed.

It's one right now and I don't want to go to sleep but I have to because I have to wake up to clean and pack and drop off a library book and go to work and, fuck.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Life. I don't recommend it.

Fucking hell.

- Mint.