T. thinks it’s nuts that I would email him and ask if he wants me to delete his contact info. Simply put, I don’t want it to be over, but maybe he does. So he can decide, and then I can move forward. Yes, perhaps I’m beating a dead horse, and more than likely, I’m just setting myself up for disaster and humiliation (see previous post re: hot guy / prom date / big joke). Sometimes, though, you just can’t help it. I’m a bag of emotions.
New people moved in upstairs last night. And by last night I mean continuously from about 8 until around 2 a.m. At least, that’s when they decided to set up their bedroom furniture. Above my head. This wouldn’t have been a big deal, if I’d had the company I’d been expecting, as I wouldn’t have been asleep, anyway. But… I was alone, pissed, and sad. There was a pretty big dose of self-pity in the mixture, too. I wasn’t sleeping well anyway. Let’s just hope they’re quiet, hmm? Last night, laying in bed, listening to the banging, shoving, and floor-scraping, I almost let the blackness take over. I started thinking about moving (to where?) and how I’d afford it (I couldn’t) and where I would go (run to Wiarton?) and whether the sun would ever shine on my world again (no). Sometimes these mood swings scare the hell out of me. When I think about submerging my head in my bathtub and leaving it there, I wonder how far the darkness would have to go before I’d do it. And if the reasonable part of my brain that knows that that’s a ridiculously stupid idea would stop me. I think it would. And c’mon. Everyone thinks of submerging their head sometimes, don’t they?
I need to get out of here. I have to run to the Ex’s and drop off some stuff and eventually pick up Indigo. I started to cry last night when I saw him on the Ex’s webcam as I was testing mine out. I need to get out for a bit, too. Maybe tonight will just be quiet movies. Lord knows there’s enough of a movie running in my head right now, I hardly need more drama. I know! I know it’s self-created. Don’t think I don’t. I feel almost like I end up creating these awful, melodramatic scenes in my life, and then for an extra dose of stupidity, I subject my closest friends to the sideshow. I should stop that – I should stop involving them in the bullshit that passes for excitement in my life. Maybe if I had to deal with it on my own, I’d bang my own head into a brick wall and knock it off.
T.’s right in one respect, and it was interesting to hear – that me hiding behind “Turkey” is the Real Me, not these other caricatures that I create. I think, when I’ve been talking to Woodstock, I’ve been trying to say the same thing, without really succeeding. I need to find that girl and climb back into her skin and learn how to be comfortable there. She’s been shaken up a lot in the past year (T. – it’s been almost exactly a year since Donny… that’s almost funny). It’s time to get back to who I am, not who I think I should be. … now just to figure out how to do that….
