Oh look, it's a Christmas stress.

I hate it when freshly scrubbed floors look dusty HALF AN HOUR AFTER I FUCKING SCRUBBED THEM.

I hate it when everything goes wrong and the final straw makes me explode and I can't do my good ole reliable stress-relief routine of listening to angry music loudly because even slightly-above-normal Les Miserables is Too Loud.

I hate crying randomly.

I hate my stupid fucking finger which JUST WON'T HEAL, and that tries to make me want to cut it off every time after cleaning or doing dishes. [and hah, why not; after all, we just bought a lovely sharp new kitchen knife. Hah. Hah. Yes, I'm kidding.]

I hate having exactly five Euros left for the rest of the Erudamn year [before paying the rent, hahah], and then having someone imply that I'm abusing his good-naturedness. [I can only hope some relative decides that gifting money is, sometimes, not 'loveless' after all.]

I HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE the last preparations before Christmas. You know what? I want to be a kid again when everything's just suddenly there.

I hate feeling all useless and worthless and being good for nothing but writing silly self-pitying LJ entries.

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( Gucke da, ein Weihnachtsstresstier )

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