Sometimes, I set expectations and goals for myself; then the deadline comes looming over me with a great wave of dread. This is Christmas. Every fucking year. I always say that I am going to start earlier. And I always end up having other things that I need to get done and Christmas projects get put off. I always say to myself that those projects have to wait because this other thing’s dead line comes first. This year, I took on InkTober (I still haven’t posted all those sketches >.<) and that turned out to be too much in context of doing both NaNoWriMo and Christmas projects. Now, I have 2.5 projects left to complete and I am staring at the deadline. I have no idea how I can possibly get it done. Do I just buy them an extra present? That seems shitty since I made every one else something. Do I just try to slam through and get this shit done? I might be able to if I fore go sleep (this is something I am capable of) and do nothing but crochet and sew. But that comes with a price. I suppose everything does. Or do I just let it go? I’ve never been very good at that. Once I commit to doing something I am one of those people that just drive through to the finish and reach that dead line. Every fucking time. I get shit done. Always. I have always been the person that gets shit done. When people need things, they come to me because I am the one that gets things done. I always have been. No one ever wonders about this. They just show up and say “Hey, I need this done,” and expect that I will magically solve their problem. And I do. Always. Well, I’m tired. I don’t want to be that fucking person any more. I’m angry that people have just come to expect it. They don’t ask. They assume. Because I always have. This is the person that I am both at work and at home. I fix shit and I get shit done. Well, I fucking don’t want it any more. Get your own fucking shit together and solve your own fucking problems. I don’t recall the last time someone called me just to see how I’m doing or just to talk about random shit. They call because they need me to do something. They call because they have a problem. How about someone ask me how my fucking world is? Because you know what? I have fucking problems to. Every person on this planet does. I’m not sure when it was in my life that I decided I needed to fix everything, but I think that I’ve reached the point that I feel I have fixed enough. I was a terrible person in my youth. I was a bully. I was a hateful, rotten bitch as a teen. Maybe this need to help people at my own expense was some kind of penitence. Well, if it was, after 20 years, I’m considering the debt fucking paid. When do I get to be a person? I would just like people to see me as something other then a resource. Hello?! I’m here!