Puzzled

I feel like I have all the pieces of information needed to lose weight, earn money, get laid, solve the world's problems, etc. (not necessarily in order of importance) somewhere within my grasp. The pieces of the puzzle are all there, and I have it all put together, except for the last piece. That last piece is pinched between my chubby fingers and try as I might, I can't make the fucker fit. I know it's the right piece, I know it has to fit in there somehow, but instead of plugging away at every possible scenario to ease it into place, I swipe the whole mess off the table, swear at it a bit, then spend hours picking it up and redoing it, only to repeat the process again at the last piece. Sometimes I get pissed and try another puzzle, but it always seems to end the same way, with me holding the last piece in a fit of angry confusion.

Why can't I do this? Why can so many other people flip that laminated piece of cardboard into its' correct spot and finish the puzzle? If I've done the work for the first 999 pieces, why, oh why does the end vex me so?

For the better part of the last two years, I have succeeded in stuffing all my wants and needs into a teeny, tiny ball and burying it so far up my ass even the (racial slur) couldn't find it. It appears my bout of dysentery has dislodged the shit, and now that my stuff has had space, i can no longer make it fit in a teeny tiny ball. Where I was able to overlook petty annoyances for the sake of the greater good, I now think, "Fuck that! There is no "greater good" when I'm the only motherfucker worrying about what anyone else wants." Why sacrifice myself for harmony when apparently harmony isn't too damn important to the cacophonous bastards fucking up my shit?

I think I broke my compliance bone. It was pretty tiny and brittle anyway.

Somehow in all my nostalgia for the days when friends were available in abundance, I lost sight of the fact that the few remaining people were self-centered turds. Maybe I am too, but, whatever. I need to stop feeling obligated to help people who held my hair when I was drunk, or watched my 18 year old daughter when she was a baby. I'd like to hope I've more than made up for my indiscretions, and if I somehow haven't, well, then I probably never will. While I am still the same rotten, puking drunk, I haven't done shit like that in awhile. There's no need to be rude or mean, but my days of extending thoughtful invitations or aid to those who don't respond in kind are finished. I like when I can help, I like being able to provide solutions, etc., but, damn, a few people I know simply don't deserve it anymore.


Since when was I obligated to drive 300 miles a night and sell tee shirts for free for people who have only ever put me on their guest list anyway? Sure, we have fun hanging out those weekends, but it never goes beyond that. Oh, I know, since I felt bad for being on the list repeatedly because someone else felt she was entitled to ask to add me. I don't feel bad anymore, sorry.

Anyway, I'm hoping if I cut out some of the background noise and chatter, I will finally be able to figure out how to fit that last puzzle piece in its place.