The past few years, I've wondered what the point of me even is. Today is one of those days where I feel too stupid to be alive. For the past week, I've been telling myself I have Monday and Wednesday off. So today, I slept in good and long, then took my nephew and his friend to the mall where we spent the whole afternoon. I came home to look at the calendar in horror, noticing I'd written "9:30-6" on today's date. And I can't come in tomorrow to make up for it, meaning I've lost an entire day's pay and gotten a No call/No show put on my permanent record with the store. I"ve had a perfect attendance record since I came back in April, and now this. It's humiliating. If the idiots who write work schedules were taught common sense at their fancy schools, maybe shit like this wouldn't happen. Leave people so that they come in at the same time every day, and have the same days off each week, unless they request otherwise. I'm tired of going from third shift to first, to midshift, to first, and then back to third. I'm not a damn robot. Not that I can blame my company; the same shit gets pulled on nurses, CNAs, and other professions as well. The people who schedule are just fucktards, plain and simple.
I'll be 27 next year. I did the year of college last year because it would supposedly "Guarantee me a job in the medical field", and nothing. Here I am again, slinging groceries for a big box company, and if I weren't living at home, I wouldn't be making poverty level and I don't know how I'd get by. I've never even been in a relationship, nor had the remotest hint of one, while everyone around me is getting married and having kids. Not that I want kids, hell no, but I would like a companion. People seem to think I'm cute and funny and nice to be around, but I'm never the girlfriend. Never. Which brings me to my next paragraph of angst.
When I came back to the store, I met Kenny A.K.A. Pip, on the remodel team. Oh, I was quite taken with him, especially compared to the other monkeys that were on the team. He was very attractive, quiet, respectful to all outward appearance, and generally seemed like a straight-laced kind of gentleman. Then out of the blue he started talking to me, all because of my name; the guys I like NEVER talk to me, let alone on a level where they feel I'm equal to them. It was great, he was so much fun to be around and so easy to talk to, and a little flirtatious on top of it. Then I found out he had a criminal record. Probation for the next 8 years, on a charge of drug trafficking. I was crushed. I cried. I worried. I stressed. I wondered what I was going to do if he came back to work. I told myself that whatever might have happened was over and that he was off limits now. He was a bad person. But he did come back, and try as I might, I couldn't see him as the villain I'd made him in my mind. I still had feelings and I continued to hang around him. I still do. He's nothing but a mess, he's very wrong for me, and yet I'm still smitten with him. It's pathetic and disgusting. On his days off, he does nothing but drink himself into oblivion each and every time, like this is the pinnacle of good times or something like that, and he never seems to get bored of getting trashed at home. At least he stays at home, I'll give him that. But then again, I'm pretty sure his license is suspended, because his brother always brings him back and forth to work. He's just some dumb hick with at least a slight alcohol issue, but I look at him like he's the fucking prince of the south or some rubbish like that. He waves or smiles or makes a stupid face at me, and I'm all grins, and I can't help it. And I hate myself for it. He pretty much has all the characteristics and habits I've always utterly loathed in a person, but I seem to put on my rose-tinted glasses when he's around. He doesn't even think about me 'that' way, and I'm pretty sure he's coming round to a friend of mine as far as feelings go. It always happens that way.
I have no savings, I'm in debt up to my ears, and it'll be at least two years before I'm paid off of most of them. I have absolutely nothing to show for my life, and no one to share it with. Most of my better friends are online, because all the people I know in person are on such a different walk of life. It's like once they find out I'm not in a relationship, or that I haven't shat babies out of my crotch, that I'm not worth talking to. And people who do talk to me, like Pip, well, I probably shouldn't be talking to anyways, but I do because it's better than being lonely and weird. On my days off, or what I THINK are my days off, anyways, I'm hanging round with people in the 20 and under crowd because they're the only ones I can get to go anywhere with me.
So all in all, yes, I really do wonder what the point of me is. I don't think the world would miss me one way or the other.