Revision

Okay, so earlier I put up a doozy of a post about how I feel as if I have almost no control over my life. While this is generally true, I fear that the negative sentiments I expressed were an eensy bit exaggerrated and were most definitely counterproductive. Have no fear, I am no longer flipping my shit. That much.

So here's a brief summary of some the crap that's hanging over my head and making me go all nuts:
~ I'm beyond broke (meaning I'm in mucho debt), which means I can't afford to move out of my parents' house anytime soon. [I mentioned something earlier about feeling compelled to set myself on fire and defenestrate myself from the attic if I don't get the hell out of this godforsaken town and start doing something at least remotely interesting sometime in the very near future. Don't worry, I probably won't be doing that.]

~ I'm having some health issues (yeah, what's new?). I'm extra-cranky because my hormones are all fucked up because I ran out of my birth control pills about a month ago and couldn't get my refills soon enough, so I have to wait until after my next period to start popping pills again. I should have had said period a few weeks ago, but it's still AWOL, and I am in a state of permanent PMS. I'm also having some issues with the whole "not-dropping-dead-while-attempting-to-climb-a-flight-of-stairs" thing. I am seriously out of shape, but my asthma makes aerobic exercise really painful at best and life-threatening at worst. I am doubly saddened by this, because my ass (and the rest of me, for that matter) is rapidly transcending my clothing, and as mentioned before, I am too broke to buy new stuff.

~ Despite his efforts to appear supportive, my father is obviously still very uncomfortable with the whole "gay thing," and this bothers me a lot. He says he's "still processing," but I think he's waiting for me to "grow out of it."

~ My mother is a psycho hosebeast extraordinaire, but I can't just ignore her, 'cause her apartment is the only place I can stash my cat when I'm stuck at home. (Dad is adamently anti-feline.)

Okay, I am significantly more mellow and less axe-murdery than I was when I composed my previous angst-ridden post, but I firmly stand by my promise that if one more person offers me cliché "everyone goes through this, it's normal" advice and/or lame platitudes, I will rip his/her face off and mount it on my wall as a trophy.

That is all.