| | Thank you -- Message flagged. | | | 10995 | | All of my colleagues think I'm some sort of genius. They think I'm just biding my time in this dead-end job while I work on my Master's degree. Then, they come to me in droves to have me proofread (and sometimes even write) their papers as I capitalize on their laziness by charging them for the privilege.
The truth is that I never even finished my Bachelor's degree, and I haven't been a student since 2003. I took a break to travel, came back and lost my job, and I've been trying to get my finances in order to complete the degree ever since then. It's been six fucking years. I'm never going to finish. | | | | | 10994 | | Doctors, by and large, are some of the most smug, sanctimonious bastards on the face of the planet, yet I am throwing my entire life into upheaval to become one. It's honestly not for the money, because with the way reimbursement is changing, it's not as lucrative a career move as it might have been ten years ago (which my parents love to remind me is when I should've made this decision, anyway). Patient care is a huge motivator, but I've gotta be honest when I say that my primary motivation in choosing this for myself is that I want the respect. I want people to excuse my obnoxious behavior because I'm an MD. I want to be offered invitations to all the parties I profess to hate, rudely turn them down because I can't be arsed to go, and still be loved and feared by my contemporaries. I want the white lab coat to communicate to people that I am austere and unapproachable, yet still know that they long to strike up a conversation with me, to consider me a friend. I want only the best quality men -- other doctors, scientists, professors, men with whom I can actually have a conversation -- to throw themselves at me and forgive the dull, glazed look in my eyes each time they bed me for astonishingly sub-par sex. I want to have a husband who looks good at dinner parties and who will forgive my notorious infidelity (after all, the stresses of the job made me do it). I want to mock the drug addicts, the obese, those who are non-compliant with treatments for their largely self-imposed illnesses, and ask the world to overlook the gross hypocrisy in this, as I drink, smoke, and have unprotected sex with an ever-growing number of high-risk partners.
This is my deepest desire, and I think it is the secret desire of aspiring and established physicians everywhere, but if I were to say this in a med school interview, I'd be toast.
Why not just call a spade a spade? | | | | | 10993 | | I frequently and purposely put myself in precarious situations in the hope that something will go terribly wrong and I'll die. This way, the suicide clause in my life insurance policy won't kick in and I'll finally be able to afford to compete with my ex-husband for our daughter's affection, even if it's from beyond the grave. Sure, I give her time and encouragement now, and heaps and heaps of love, but when you're eight years old, none of that stuff really has the same appeal as your very own Wii and 42" HDTV.
I'm so sick of disappointing her. It breaks my heart to have to constantly tell her no, and it infuriates me that my ex-husband -- who still lives with his mother, who ALSO gives our daughter everything she could possibly want -- actively works to keep her in a position where she doesn't want to come back to Mommy. And she doesn't. She tells me all the time.
Without my daughter, I have no reason to live. | | | | | 10992 | | I am 32 years old and have done nothing with my life. Anytime I feel like making a decision, I freeze. I talk myself out of everything I've ever wanted because I'm terrified of not being the best at it. Rationally, I know it's not possible to be the best at everything. But there's that side of me that feels like a miserable failure no matter what I do. Therefore, if I do nothing, at least I'm doing nothing _well_. | | | | | 10991 | | Sometimes, I wish my boyfriend of nearly six years would go ahead and give me a ring so that I could reject him in as humiliating and devastating a manner as possible. He keeps telling me we'll get married, encouraging me to make plans for a wedding, and then completely backtrack for the most ridiculous reasons, leaving me feeling foolish for ever having believed he wanted it, in the first place. He acts like he's some spry young dude with countless opportunities for advancing his career and exploring the world, but the truth is that he's a balding 30-year-old computer geek with serious mommy issues. The longer I wait this out, the more I see there's nothing worth waiting for. Maybe he's doing me a favor. | | | | | 10990 | | dear Entertainment industry. if you would just make your tv season box sets reasonably priced i would buy them instead of torrenting them.
<3 me | | | | | 10550 | | my life is a mess. i can't stand any of my friends. the older i get the more antisocial i become. i was wrong when i chose to be here. i gave up too quickly and ran away like a wuss. i feel stupid and worthless and ugly. i should never have given up on an education. no matter how smart i am...i feel worthless. | | | | | 10549 | | I don't know why it happens. Some how I become the outcast in every group I'm in, inspiring everything from disrespect and indifference to out right hatred. I'm not a dick, I don't talk bad about anyone, I don't try to push people around. I'm a friendly helpful guy. For some reason just about everyone has found some reason to dislike me. I really don't know what I'm doing that causes such offense to such a wide range of people. | | | | | 10548 | | Sorry, kid, I know you were just trying to help. Don't let me stop you, keep it up and life will be a lot smoother. | | | | | 10547 | | I tried to hold it in the whole time, but just as I started to jizz in her mouth I let a huge fart rip. Ruined the whole night. | | |
<< Previous Next >> |
| |
| | \di·vulge\, v. i. 1. To make known (something private or secret) 2. Archaic. To proclaim publicly
the idea is for anyone to anonymously confess to anything. it actually feels kind of good to know that someone will read it.
this is completely confidential. no information about you or your computer is stored. in fact, we only collect the text you type, the date, and a random number.
|
