02.11.04 Finally no distractions. No noise. This past week has been *insert random adjective here* and I haven�t had the time/energy/sanity to write an entry. I'm proud of myself though and I don't even know why. Here is what I almost wrote yesterday... I am about to fucking freak out right now. I can't believe the fucking nerve of BF. He hasn't called me all day (when he usually calls at least twice a day because he's "bored") and it's my fucking birthday. Actually, no he did call just a few minutes ago and the first thing out of his godforsaken little beer-hole was "Go ahead and go through the drive-thru after work, I'm eating dinner right now." For sweet Christ's sake, it's my 25th birthday today. Yes. You know, the one day of the year that I shouldn't HAVE to go through the goddamn drive-thru? The one day a year that my significant other should call me to say HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY? Not to give a detailed account of what he's put in his own stomach? Instead - I saved it to a word document and cried all the way home from work. When I got home to BF cleaning the entire house as my Birthday present, I was immediately pissed off, yet happy at the same time. (He is just not good at lying, I guess.) All that on the phone was a ploy to get me out of the house while he surprised me. 25. It seems too old when I type it out and look at it there on the page. 25. (I remember my mother's 25th birthday.) So as this will be a stamp in time, I will take the effort to write out some major highlights of what,s what in my life right now. It seems appropriate, I guess... For the time being I am employed. I get a decent wage for what I do (which is surf the GD internet all day long) and get major paid holidays and other benefits. It's not even in the same vacinity as my dream job, BUT - seeing as how my dream job involves Ashton Kutcher and laying by the pool all day eating cheesecake and valium, it's probably as close as anything else I could be doing right now. I am in a relationship with BF that has withstood the seasons of 4 years. We will soon celebrate that - our first real anniversary, since it falls on leap year. (I'm not getting my fucking hopes up for a romantic dinner) I have moved past infatuation, through first love bliss, past that crazy midpoint of nothing-new, and on to vast comfort of company. I love him for being my best friend. And at the moment I have that ache of reality that says that I cannot be certain that we'll always be so. I recently started yet another medication to regulate my "moods". I say moods because there isn't a word for it really... Therapy and Valium simply aren't enough anymore. I've suffered with this condition since my early teens (maybe even younger) and find myself at a point where I want to move on. I guess my main problem being that I'm more of a dreamer anyways, and that the world that I'm forced to live in is foreign and difficult (at best). My main goal by the time I'm thirty is to accept myself - as cheesy as that is. To be okay with the person that writes here in this diary. To be okay with not being what I think I SHOULD be. Blah, blah. I should really DO something. Anything. I feel antsy & anxious about the future. It's like it cannot come fast enough or it's coming too fast, one of the two. I cannot become decisive about anything - this ring on my finger, my half-attempts at school, my semi-career - nothing seems easy or apparent. I am your classic underachiever. But I'm learning to accept that (I think) and know that things aren't always going to be the way they are in my head. BF has refused to take any of this seriously. Granted, he doesn't remember any of what happened last Sunday when he had that seizure, but at least he could humour me when I get nervous about his every move. He just doesn't get it. Maybe that's why he is unaffected by his near death - no, I take that back because I know it's exactly why he refuses to "slow down". It only affected those who witnessed it. Those who saw those big blue eyes wide and dead. Every day this week he has continued to drink himself silly... my only consolation is that he's agreed not to mix drugs anymore and not to do LSD or any type of speed ever again. Or at least until we're comfortable. (more like when I stop bitching at him about it) I guess until this memory is faded soft. I get the idea that he doesn't care whether he lives or dies. He doesn't fear either, which is something that I both admire and resent. To not care whether you are in the world or not. That is truly fearless. |
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