The final straw was realizing the misery I was causing for myself by logging on and looking at the photos and stories of everyone else's happiness, vacations, adventures and general good times.
I haven't had a vacation since I've lived here. In fact, as I was running out to the store earlier this morning, I started asking myself why I had chosen to live in such a miserable place. I know why I did it. Because there's this one little part of town, by the water, which reminds me of a place I used to go during the summers when I was growing up.
I work two jobs, bust my ass and break my body every day just to start worrying about having enough money to make it to the next paycheck two days after payday. And then I tell myself that I chose this life because it's honorable. I did this to myself. I made the choices in this life that painted me so far into a corner that I'll never truly live life ever again. Penance.
So yes, I've left Facebook to avoid having to be reminded that normal people live in nice houses, go on more than one vacation a year and are generally happy. I spent all my happy years ago. I have no idea how to relate other than to rage when I see that photo from someone's vacation in the one place I was ever truly happy in my entire life. The one place I can never return to because I've failed so badly as an adult that I couldn't even afford the gas to return there for a day trip.
I'm nearing 40, it keeps creeping up on me bit by bit. Soon I'll be too broken to continue in the jobs I hold now. And I have no idea whatsoever how I'm going to deal with it when they cut me loose because I'm too old and can't keep up anymore.
I couldn't hack it as a photographer. I see that other photographers I knew back in the day are ridiculously successful. I quit because I couldn't figure out how to make money at it.
I couldn't hack it in broadcasting. I threw myself in wholeheartedly and when push came to shove, I never figured out how to turn contacts into an opportunity.
I really didn't want to be career in either restaurant or retail management. I could have, but I had no urge to live those punishing hours forever.
I went to school for agriculture. Years later and I haven't even come close to paying for school with my work in the industry.
All I have is shitty manual labor jobs. And myriad talents that I could never parlay into anything lucrative.
All my life I've gone head first into those things that I thought I wanted most. And every time, I've burned myself for doing so.
My grandma always used to caution me about burning the candle at both ends, yet, at this point in my life, I have no other choice but to beat myself to death slowly in order to maintain a status quo that keeps everyone happy but me.
Is it too much to ask to go out and have a drink with friends (I have none)? Is it too much to ask to have some of the locals here tell me where the good secret hideaways are after six years of knowing nobody and nothing? Is it too much to ask that I don't have to work every damn paid vacation I may get from my night job just to keep things on even keel while my coworkers are out fishing and waterskiing and lounging on beaches?
I can't even get so far as the damn poultry auction, which is somewhere I need to go from time to time as part of my day job.
I wish I could jettison this life, it's a waste anyway.
So if you don't see me on Facebook, it's because I'm working. All the damn time. Working to pay for other people's happiness. All while I'm destined to be stuck in my own personal hell forever.
I was working on a novel back in November for Nanowrimo. I got pretty far into it before job(s) took me away from the computer. It was intended to be a requiem for the place I'll never return to. And in having not been able to finish the work, I suppose I kept a small sliver of hope alive that one day I'll be able to go back.
That's what's eating at me now. That small sliver of hope that I really need to let go of. Because looking at photos of friends and family in speedboats in that place for spring break is killing me.
