The Attention-Seeking Whiner. Me.

So I had a total of four views on my last blog post. One person said they were going to miss me on facebook. I'm assuming that you, dear reader, already consider me an attention-seeking whiner. And to that I say: you're right. Deal with it. You wanna know why I might have turned into an attention-seeking whiner? Because, although I have my family and the odd friendly co-worker, I have no friends here in England except for the Sister Missionaries. Whoop. De. Doo. Since I'm not even a member of the church any more, that fact is just pathetic, as nice as they are. My boyfriend, or I suppose my ex-boyfriend, hasn't talked to or texted me in about five weeks. Fair enough. But that includes the three weeks previous to my breaking up with him, so he didn't even say goodbye to me. He didn't even say "I really hate you Danie. I'm never communicating with you again." He just....stopped. Nothing. To me, anyway. The updates about his fabulous escapades with his friends, his sheer delight as he collects girl's phone numbers, and weekly self-promoting selfies (redundant wording, I am aware) were and are all daggers to my heart. Because he has time for the masses, but didn't have time for me. If you were wondering why I deleted my facebook account, it's because I knew if I had access to his status updates and the photographic chronology of his life there would be no chance of me ever moving on from that relationship. So I removed myself from a permanent stalking of his existence. When I tried to be strong about the break-up, I just looked like an idiot. And when I tried to apologize to him publicly I got called "desperate". Guess what, reader? That is also accurate. I am desperate. I am a desperate, attention-seeking whiner. And I get to write about it however I feel like, because it's my freaking blog.

There's another thing. I've received complaints and concerns about what I write here. FINE. IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT THEN DON'T FRACKING READ IT. I am not writing to make you, dear reader, feel comfortable or give you illusions about how put-together I am. This blog is me in my resplendent madness. I'm not attempting to sell myself as a perfect human. I'm not trying to be an example of how to live life. I hope you don't expect the deep and profound here, because all you are going to find are the random musings and fleeting fancies of a confused, satisfied, angry, content, messed up human being. Because, yet again, I am all of those things. I don't like pretending to be something I'm not.

I am sorry if anyone is offended. Because I can imagine that even the random people in Korea that apparently read this blog could find something to be offended about here. But this is what it is. I wish we could all acknowledge that people are people, and we really shouldn't expect the people we know to contribute positively to our lives just because we happen to know them. That's not my job, dear reader. I have no job. I just write.

Thanks. I'm gonna get back to not sleeping before my 14 hour workday tomorrow.