Well That Was Depressing: The Optimistic Post

Dear Diary,

Ever have those days where you feel like you suck? Like, where you go about your day thinking, "Wow, I suck"? I mean, for the past few days I've been doing the same 'ol things I always do: wake up from my Android alarm clock to prepare for either a long day of work or school, take a shower if my hair is a mess or just wash my face if the hair decides to not look (and feel) like a broomstick made out of discarded cat hair, spend half an hour slapping on face creams/serums/moisturizing primer that is followed by foundation/concealer/my eyebrows, and grab my shit to head out the door. I've been breaking out lately on my chin and it's driving me wacko. Hormones are to blame, I believe. Whoops, slap on some extra Korres concealer.
Work is the same every time I get there.
"Hello, floor?" I ask the people in the elevator with me. Sometimes I have casual office conversation with strangers.
"You're like the elevator girl!"
"Hah. Yeah."  I leave a pleasant half-smile on my face. I feel like I suck today. 

"So what IS on the fourth floor?" I was questioned before.
"You know, I think it might be more offices."
"I've always wondered!" I left that woman pondering as I daintily left the elevator. Hope she found out.

"Hey, you work here??" One guy asked me.
"Oh yeah, I do."
"Which floor?" He was too enthusiastic for my cynical ass to appreciate.
"Well, second one. As you can see," I give a friendly nudge towards the ONLY other lit-up floor button on the elevator. No shit I'm going to that floor, Smart Sam.
"Alright, well see you around!" He then starts enthusiastically talking to some random guy. Office noob.

Once in the office itself, I sit at the front desk and answer phone calls/crank out some typed law office work and deal with clients' fuckery all day.
"Hello, Law Offices. How can I help you?"
"Yes, which room is your office located in?"
"We are in room two-seventy-C. Right at the corner."
"Okay, thanks."
"No problem. Goodbuh-" Click.
Ring ring.
"Hello, Law Off-"
"Yes, I just called. You said room two-seventy-three and I got lost."
"I'm sorry, perhaps you misheard me? We are in room two-seven-"
"No, no. You need to learn how to say things to people. Say, 'Two-seven-zero-C,' not 'Two-seventy-three.' That's not how you talk to people. Learn how to say the room number correctly.
TWO.
SEVEN.
ZERO.
SEEEEE."
"Okay, I will try to improve on that. Sorry about the miscommunication sir, goodbuh-" Click. The fuck are you.  

Now, as far as school goes, let's be honest here. Community college sucks majorly. I chose the community-college-to-real-four-year-college route over going to some okay-mediocre schools my previously-lazy ass got accepted to my senior year. I just started full-time community college and it is one lonely ass place. Actually, imagine this: community college = high school - your best friends - your innocence + fucktards who fail at academics + coffee stands everywhere / gas or fastpass money to campus + still living with your parents - freedom + stress. Now add to that equation the fact that you must tell everyone you meet and your family at special occasions, including holidays, that you are in college.
"Ooh, which college do you attend?"  
"Oh, I am currently attending _______ community college.I'mgoingtotransferthough." I always rush the last part.
"That's nice.........." We both know that life is fucking sucking for me right now, even if I finally started getting straight A's.

Anyway, I've been trying to help out homeless people recently. The other day, my brother and I passed by a homeless guy and we just happened to have a shitload of extra Chinese food with us, still warm. Needless to say, the guy took the food, but not first without saying, "Are you sure you don't need it?" We assured him that we did not need it and he responded by saying, "Alright, thank you. I'm going to share it with my friend over there." As we drove away, however, my brother noticed that although the man was white, his hands were covered in so much dirt that they were a charcoal color. He said, "He looks like he's been in gold mines all day using his hands." We then realized that we forgot to give the homeless man a fork or spoon.

Today, I offered a homeless guy some dried mangoes out of my car window and he said, "Aw, no I'm okay." Well, I suck today. Was I just rejected by a homeless man? 
Contrastingly, I felt pretty fucking sucky the day before and as I walked towards work with some Starbucks in my hands, a homeless man called out to me, "Good morning, gorgeous." I mumbled a morning greeting to him and felt my level of suckiness elevate.

Well, I thought that my last post was far too depressing to even publish and planned on writing a happy-go-lucky post tonight, but that obviously did not turn out the way that I expected.
As a girl in these modern-day times, sometimes I just feel unconfident.
Boobs too small. Thinks about saving up for boob job. Still contemplating.
Skin not clear. Thinks about seeing dermatologist. Still comparing myself to others.
Not tall enough. Thinks about buying those new lace-up booties. Still think that's stupid as fuck.
Butt isn't in a bubble shape. Thinks about doing squats. Still not caring enough to do it consistently.
Hair not perfect. Thinks about getting extensions/hair cut. Still don't know what I really want.
Fuck Instagram/Tumblr/Facebook for allowing us all easier ways to compare ourselves to each other. And the porn industry/import models/Hooters girls. Thanks to those girls for doing absolutely nothing productive for society 98.95% of their days on planet earth.

-That Girl, maybe I'm still going through puberty. But I'm fucking 18-years old. I can marry, win the lottery, smoke, and have legal, consensual sex goshdarnit.