Hey look it’s old me at Borders…a company where customers would come in and say WOW I’D LOVE TO WORK HERE and I’d want to yell YOU DON’T HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MOTHERFUCKING CORPORATE BULLSHIT IT IS HERE!
I’m an hour away from being 3 days sober. This is fine. I’m not in danger of losing this streak tonight.
However, I have nothing positive to say. Yes I know that’s not true because I just wrote something that was.
I’m in the middle of a post-trigger jagged silence. Fought with my best friend tonight and wound up feeling like I’m 8 years old trying to figure out how to appease my sister……what does she want? What can I say to get her to stop? Nothing worked. Nothing.
So I had the bright idea of opening this blog up and writing, since I haven’t written in a bit, and most of the recent blog entries have been when I was drunk anyway.
I had a feeling tonight was going to be hard, but not this hard.
I’m not ready to go another year or more of having online-only friends (read: 90% acquaintances) due to delta and COVID and fucking anti-maskers and -vaxxers and bullshit social media lies and disinformation. I had a glimmer of hope where me and my brother and family (but not my fucking sister) went to mom n dad’s house and played cards; we did this in June I think. The days just run together now. It’s not likely that will happen again anytime soon.
People have been seeking therapy like mad. I have a therapist; she had to cancel today because sadly she had an urgent family matter. Therapy will be Friday instead.
I feel like I could remain silent the rest of the night, or scream in my own private moshpit in the parking lot. And yes WordPress “moshpit” is one word you amoebic throatsack.
I hope reading Brandon Sanderson will be good tonight if I can do it without falling asleep first. It’s going to take some time for my body and mind to fully expunge the alcohol.
Social media is a disease yet it’s all I have at the moment.
Honestly. Hold me. But it ain’t gonna happen. So I’ll keep drinking water and hugging my plush bear and crying. And fuck you there’s no such thing as “ugly crying”. I don’t do dainty fucking photo-op tears. I do full wracking sobs and there’s nothing you can do about it.
sabatimus 