It's never a good idea to judge a book by it's cover...

I don't know why the post I texted last night didn't show up on here, but maybe it's a good thing... It wasn't exactly a very nice post, but I felt I needed to say it somewhere. Guess it wasn't meant to be said here. Or maybe it just takes forever for it to show up. I dunno. Anyway, there really isn't much of a point to this post either, except to say that I seem to enjoy torturing myself... I don't know why I do it, but I do. I wish there was some kind of manual on myself. Something like..."Shenise Edmonds for Dummies." Yeah. I could totally use a book like that. I really should be in bed right now, but obviously I'm not. Don't ask why, because I'm not entirely sure...Lately I've been staying up this late just because I can, and I have had to force myself to go to bed most nights. When I do get to bed and fall asleep, I don't want to get out of bed the next morning (I'm sure I'm not the only one there though). Last week, some of the guys that I work with made fun of me for looking at engagement rings online. What, is there a law against single women looking at engagement rings or something? Of course, this was a few days after "that" happened, and it really irritated me that I was being teased for doing something a lot of girls do. One of the guys kept going on about it even after the rest of them had forgotten about it... This guy in particular gets on my nerves and every time he talks to me, I don't think very pleasant thoughts towards him. Some days I wish I had a normal job. No, actually... Everyday I wish I had a normal job... Or at least one that's not directly involved with the flightline. Don't get me wrong, my job is interesting and all of that but, it's not what I wanted to do. I wanted (and still do, for that matter) to be a nonner, sitting behind a desk, wearing blues on Monday, working during the day and actually having a social life (which probably isn't just affected by my job, most of that is probably my fault). I want to be back in Virginia (maybe not in Stafford just yet, but somewhere close would be nice) with my family. I hate not having family out here. I hate myself for being jealous that other people are out there living the life that I want so badly for myself, and yet I do nothing to get what I want. I hate that I won't allow myself to be vulnerable in front of people that I don't really know because I don't know what they'll think of me. I hate that I care so much about what people think. I hate that I have these anxiety issues, and even though I'm talking to someone about it, and was given a packet with different exercises to help deal with it I don't think I'll ever get over it. I hate that the amount of self-esteem that I have changes every day (if not a few times during the day). I hate that I'll probably never have what I really want in life, and it's not like I can complain about it because I brought it all on myself; it's all my fault.

Maybe I should just force myself to go to bed. Clearly blogging right now is not helping me feel better about anything; it's probably making it worse.