April 14

So I went for a job interview yesterday and it was relentless: what I haven't done recently, what skills I don't have, what I don't know. They weren't even interested in what's good about me. They asked but they didn't seem to listen to or care about the answer.

I get easily disheartened. I've come to feel I'll never have a break as far as work goes because I applied for a job I used to do and didn't even get an interview. A job I used to do! I did it well too. I mean, I was only on about half power but that's as good as anyone else. I don't mean it boastfully: that's just how I am.

But what's the point of that? If they didn't want me, who would? Now I halfheartedly apply for jobs, expecting to be rejected. There aren't many here, so competition is fierce. There will always be someone better.

In love, I believed I could have a fairy tale. It was foolish to believe but I am guided by my heart; what else can I do but believe in it? But that was crushed too. I was shown that I wasn't worth anything, what little self esteem I had was dashed out of me. I felt my heart wither, so that now I can say I love but I don't ever feel it. I can only feel that I must wait to find out how I'm not good enough. Well how foolish was I, to believe that such a piece of shit as me could ever be valuable enough to care about? I will never be worth sacrifice.

It's very hard to know you are so small. Sometimes, I'm looking at people's posts on Facebook and I can't help thinking that they all seem to have lives that give them joy, that they feel worthwhile. I just dread the end of the day because I know there will be another morning and I will face another seventeen hours of loneliness and despair. I gave up everything for this life: I became solitary and bitter because I had to do whatever I could to make life work for my family. I gave up hope so that I could have my children. It breaks my heart when Zenella says I am the best daddy in the world. I am not. I know I am not the worst but I wish I could find some sunshine so that they do not end up where I am.

I remember how much I loved my own dad, and how little he deserved it. I don't kid myself that children love the man; they love the symbol. I'm glad they do. It's right but it's no comfort when you know you do not deserve it.

Sometimes I wish I could disappear. I wish I could be drowned, murdered, expunged. What was the point of me? I wasted everything I was given, everything that could have been good. No wonder no one wants to give me anything. I'm sure I wouldn't. I hate this cunt more than anyone else could even dream of hating him. What else can you think about him? The people he loved broke him to pieces. He begged them to love him back and they laughed in his face. I could list the ways but what's the point? You know me; you know how to hate me too.

It is no use crying. I still have to wake tomorrow and lose money at poker again, hoping that somehow I can make enough to pay the bills next month. I have to be humbled over and over, spending the lonely hours hating everyone I play and myself, knowing that I am just not good enough but hoping, hoping that somehow not good enough will be good enough. That's my life: endlessly hoping that somehow someone will see enough in me not to boot me even further down.

***

I have been thinking a lot about Zenella. You could not wish to meet a funnier, sweeter child. Mrs Zen says she has a lot of difficulty relating to adults; she is shy and nervous around them. I wish I knew how to tell her that she needn't be, that she has so much to offer that they can't help but love her. I wish I was real enough to tell her about real life. But I'm not and I can't. All I can do is give unremitting love and hope that it will be in some way useful. It never has been for anyone else, but you have to hope. You have to hope, don't you?

posted by Dr Zen @ 12:01 am