Liz Erk (lizerk) wrote,
Liz Erk
lizerk

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Solitude: The Liz Erk Story (a Lifetime Original movie... or it should be)

*sigh*

I've decided that I am through with living a life full of optimism and drive. It is time to live an opposing existence. I am abandoning my athleticism, my positive attitude, my professional goals, my colorful clothing and my healthy lifestyle.

*sigh*

What is the true meaning of Christmas, anyway? If the Lifetime channel has taught me anything, it's that a life isn't worth living unless it's full of daily oppression and in a seemingly permanent state of purgatory. That is a standard I have clearly not lived up to and I feel shattered. I want to be enlightened, dammit.

*big sigh*

I want my friends to be traitors and play head games with me so I can complain about them. Stop being so loyal, for crying out loud. (so I can cry out loud) I need a reason to hire a therapist and I need people to hate on, then forgive. (Repeatedly)

There are no windows in my cubicle of life. Or cubicle of work, either. My existence is tortured by the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead... the hum of my state of the art, company assigned lap top mocks me. Me! Mocked by technology!

What cruel being torments my very soul?

I wake up at 4:50 a.m. to row in a boat full of 8 women who will not grant me sexual favors at that ungodly hour. They yawn and silently guide their oars through the water. In and out. In and out. We all work together as one unit... Why am I tortured to be among all heterosexual athletic women? Why God? Why?

(work with me, people. I'm trying here.)

I drive an SUV that guzzles gas at a soul-sucking rate. As the miles tick by, my heart is weighed down with the daunting chore of self-service gas. My ATM card whores itself at the pump. Day in and day out. (Well, maybe every 2 days or so...)

My cats refuse to pitch in around the house. They shed fur as rapidly as my veins would pump blood, should I be overcome with stigmata. They eat the food I work to provide... me, a pawn of the patriarchy... sacrificing my very existence to ensure their livelihood. For what? For a box full of excrement that requires scooping 3 times a week (clumping kitty litter is heavy)... for Mia that turns her back on me if I try to sleep in my own bed... for Cora that flees in terror when I sneeze? Their allergens are the catalyst that causes me to rely on 3 inhalers a day.

*sigh* (gasp, cough) *takes a breath from the Flovent inhaler*

No one knows what it's like to be me. Everyone is so shitty and stupid for making me feel shitty and stupid.

*sigh*
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