Rants

Post Reply New Topic

Sick of hearing sorry.
Long sick of saying sorry.

'Sorry, sorry, sorry' -- what, make a foolish promise not to do it again? Sorry something or someone's hurt?

"I promise X" stupid.
Guilt tripping stupid. Pathethic unreliable stupid.


The word sorry...
Never inspired me forgiveness and acceptance.
Especially ones followed with promises, conditions and expecting anything to make up for it.

It just doesn't.
We don't live in such world where saying sorry is all we need. We just don't.

And this person is not.

Gained Number Post Count (1).
Lose Time (n).

Lose more time here - Updates at least once a week.

I feel like i can't express myself freely around my friend. She is very kind and sweet but i am not sure she would still be my friend if i stopped acting with her. I just wish she would accept me as i am and not try to change me.

Goddammit, it still f*****g hurts. The irony is there was nothing physical and never was going to be, but this heartache still f*****g hurts as if there was. After a week of distractions, the hurt starts creeping back, so f*****g silly. The flipside is .... please forgive me for the hurt that I have caused. If you feel this same level of hurt that I do, I have no words but .... I’m sorry, I never felt love for you. I wish I could, I tried, and I wanted it so much to work but it didn’t.

Karma sucks.

My parents are the only people I know that can turn someone else having heart issues + feeling faint into their own issue, and then start ranting + crying about their own problems. Jesus f*****g Christ.

New upstairs neighbours. Can't be worse than the inconsiderate one that used to live above. But now there's going to be banging and thumping about for the next few weeks if new people are moving in. My ears are hurting already. I tell myself that they are noises that are expected but it still doesn't make it any less distracting or painful. It's so painful when they're moving furniture across the hardwood floors. Why can't apartments be built with concrete between the floors? Why with creaky bits of wood nailed together? It's hollow and any noise is more louder and distracting. I'm very noise sensitive. Yes, I know earplugs and headphones are the golden answer I hear all the time on these autism forums but sometimes I need to hear things. I can't have a conversation with my boyfriend if I've got earplugs in, for example. You can't block your ears all the time when you need to communicate with one another.

I wish we could live in an upstairs apartment, because noise below just doesn't hurt my ears at all. But then I'll be conscious all the time in case I'm making a noise for the people below, although I am a quiet sort of neighbour to have. I only vacuum once a week, I don't do much housework only when it needs it, I am quite a "light walker" so I don't stamp across the room and I don't wear my shoes on indoors. If I'm awake at night I do quiet activities like writing my stories or drawing. I use headphones when playing on my keyboard. I do try to consider other people as much as possible. And I also know that not everyone is as noise sensitive as me, so most of the noises I would make might not get so noticed unless I put on loud music or something.

But my boyfriend can't really climb stairs because of his bad knees, and most apartment buildings in the UK don't have elevators. I wish I could live in a small house but we can't afford it on our wages. I just can't bear people above me.

Why do some car drivers blast their horn at nothing? Today I was waiting for a bus on a quiet road; no people, no traffic. A car came by and after it had passed me it blasted it's horn, but it wasn't at me because I didn't recognise the car nor the person driving as it went by. And there was no one else to toot at. I think car drivers like to use their horn like a child with a toy, just for the sake of making a noise. I hate car horns and I don't think they should exist. I don't care that it's needed to alert people. There should either be a horn that's loud enough to hear but not a horrid, sharp, sudden noise, or nothing at all. If you want to get someone's attention you should knock on the window. If another road user angers you then you stick your fingers up. There are always alternate ways to alert people without the use of unbearably loud, sudden noises.

Sorry, Joe.

Car horns are really needed.

I hate them, too!

It's a waste of time for me to reach out for help when I can't be helped.

Bodily excuses.
Hormones. Guts. Screen times. Overstimulation. Sensitivity. Foods. Reproductive cycles.

Exhaustion. Too used to the unhealthy states.
Forgetting what healthy felt like. Non restorative sleep.

Blaming it all in autism. Instead of treating it like another usual problem. Assumptions.
Utterly frustrating.

Stupid body. Unreliable body. Unreliable head. Damn management. No patterns found.
No affordable professionals.

Gained Number Post Count (1).
Lose Time (n).

Lose more time here - Updates at least once a week.

The communication differences and difficulties sticky has vanished so there's nowhere to discuss communication problems.

Of which i have a few.
I am anxious about some issues.

But, hey, shut up, right?

Calm. Down. Already.

It's not fair, I wish I were NT, then I could whine without people telling me to "stop whining". I use the "jokey tone of voice and smile" technique that NTs use when moaning but I still get told those two dreaded words. Like yesterday at work the supervisor asked a co-worker to do a quick job before having his lunch break, and the co-worker jokingly said, "oh, I've got to wash my hands again now!" (his job as an engineer involves a lot of oil and grease and dirt that can take a while of thoroughly washing to get off your hands), and although he said it in a jokey sort of tone I still knew he was feeling a bit annoyed, because so would I. But everyone just laughed. But if that had been me who said that - in the same jokey sort of tone of voice (a skill which I have improved on) - people would still be like "just stop moaning" or "do you ever stop moaning?"

It's not that I moan any more or less than NTs. It's not how I say things. It's the fact that I'm treated differently from other people because I'm not as good as other people, I suppose.

I'm fed up with the lack of sensitivity / maturity some people demonstrate for trauma survivors.
I'm tired of my life being treated like some kind of a joke, or the opportunity for memes.
I'm sick of people sharing what little bit they know about me, like they won a contest.
I'm tired of people thinking they know better, when they've lived privileged lives (without violence / trauma).
I'm sick of sexism and racism and everyone arguing over semantics.

I just wish people could care about each other, or hear each other, instead of tearing each other down.

after over sixteen months at the slave plantation, still have not gotten six month performance review, much less one year performance review. one year performance review allegedly sometimes comes with raise. raises about ten cents an hour. not much, but better than nothing. but afraid to request performance review, b/c if i ask, they might make my worthless corpse redundant.

december 28, christine told me that a manager would talk to me about the Litterbox Court Jester , but she did not know when because "the holidays". yeah, well it is now february 17. but every day a holiday in some country. afraid to ask a manager to talk to me, b/c it might be antakia, javier, harold, wanzo, fragoza, or a customer experience manager. the only manager i wanna talk to, is ASM Don. but i do not get to choose who to talk to.

a couple of weeks ago, e-mailed sister, dena, corey. zero answer. wonder if they even wanna be my "friends" anymore.

a couple months ago, my sister told me that she is selling the house that i live in, so i am afraid that i have to get a second job. but i can barely handle the first job. besides, public transportation, sleep, stress. i emailed a longfuck explanation of why i don't wanna move. she answered, but did not say that she is selling the house or is not selling the house. s**t. what kind of communication is that? please do not leave my worthless corpse in suspense.

slave plantation in the middle of a homeless encampment

entitled snobby narcissistic smug customer had the nerve to tell me she didn't care that i had a doctor note that i was not allowed to lift over fifty pounds. she demanded that i load 12 bags of 60 pound concrete. i should've told the head cashier to call for loading assistance, but it seemed so trivial. so i just loaded the concrete, while the stupidass b***h stood right next to me making negative comments about how i loaded each one. "that was so heavy for you! when i was young, i could do it!". most days, zero angry customers, but i hate how vulnerable and fragile i am that any old idiot could be a customer and order me to do anything, just b/c they wasted a couple of bucks and i earn minimum wage. (i wonder how many picked up on my autism symptoms).

head cashier stephanie had the nerve to make a public service announcement that any lot attendant that fails to turn in the walkie talkie gets written up. while that hasn't happened to my worthless corpse thus far, it would be easy to get written up. they do not always give out walkie talkies, walkie talkies small and lightweight. they do not remind you to return the walkie talkie. it just seems like too many lil dipshits do little more than stand around flapping their stupidass traps, and nothing happens to them except promotion to assistant store manager. for example, Tracie. while when someone correctly or wrongly thinks i did the slightest thing wrong, they act like i invented the solar system's worst felony. s**t.

stephanie then said that she was in Customer Service for half hour watching and only josh brought in carts. nichelle and me did not push carts. but i was pushing carts the whole time. when i told stephanie she didn't believe me. so i told head cashier jim about it and if they didn't believe me they could look at the security camera. according to reddit (which might be outdated or factually wrong), head cashiers do not have the power to write anyone up. however, stephanie could get someone else to do it. everyone has subconscious biases. the Pacman always eats the larger number.

head cashier meylin had the nerve to tell head cashier jim that i shouted at her. so i told head cashier jim to check the audiotapes (the slave plantation is videotaped and audio recorded). and that meylin said "huh?", so whatever i said obviously was not loud enough. jim, meylin, and stephanie seemed nice enough until last week or so. but jim just automatically believed whatever the f**k meylin told him. the lil f***heads need to read a book about critical thinking and logical fallacies. they also need hearing aids, so i do not have to "shout".

litterboxes @ work often out of order, full, or janitor. day laborers clog the litterboxes, about one every couple of days. as an FTM i have to use the toilet every time i urinate or defecate. that is so inconvenient. in that parking lot is also mcdonalds and 24 hour fitness, and i have no car. two years ago i was fecally incontinent one time, so when the litterboxes out of order, i do not eat lunch, because i am afraid that if i eat lunch i will be fecally incontinent. but when i do not eat lunch, i get other symptoms. exhaustion. entire circadian rhythm collapses for a couple of days at least.

pants feel tighter lately, despite not gaining weight. if i have to get more pants, it wastes time, energy and cash. and sooner or later circumference expanding. i've just wasted way too much energy worrying about circumference. three weeks later and my worthless corpse 39. nothing accomplished. middle aged.

everything i try to do, especially academic, social, emotional, or athletic, is like "you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear."

double standards

wasted a couple hours trying to do income taxes. harder than it sounds logging into the work portal and other stupidass forms of BS.

work is loud as f**k. sensory nightmare. lot attendant derrick had the nerve to honk goodbye in his car. way too enthusiastic. almost gave me a heart attack.

ghetto ass holes at work act like "can you" is a polite request and "huh" is the etiquette equivalent of "excuse me".

exhausted. frequency intensity duration.

not enough cash, especially if i have to move out.

off leash dogs.

potholes, tripping hazards

have not had Voice of Associates thus far this year

paws stiff and sore after standing up all f*****g day long. and i am only 38. i am only getting older, fatter and unhealthier.

lonely as f**k.

two months ago, tattletale tom told front end supervisor cristal that i did not push any carts from 10 to 10:40am, but i was in Tree Lot (different department). and i happened to have been there when he told her, and i told her i was in tree lot. however, it makes me paranoid how anyone could tattle on me to anyone and i have to drop everything and disprove all wrongful allegations. and sometimes they get a chance to talk and nobody believes what i try to say. besides, you can't always prove or disprove all statements. for example, tattletale tom could've told the boss that i vandalized the litterbox. it is not legal to videotape inside the litterbox. besides, maybe tattletale tom having sex with the boss.

precious lil "people" constantly outnumber, overpower, outsmarted my worthless corpse.

ran out of emotional resilience a longfuck time ago

don't feel like cooking. don't know how to cook. end up eating a lot of lentil salad from safeway. delicious, but seven bucks for ten f*****g ounces, s**t.

brain working slowly, badly, wrongly

brainfart, brain misfiring

not enough litterboxes on the way to work. have to publicly urinate. and then bigmouths make comments.

exhausted all the options