Tonight...

I vomited like rose petals. But that's not getting in the way of anything.

;0

Enough irony...

To poke an eye out.

I've been trying for some interweb man-dates for about a week now. When I was seeing Kyle there were boys everywhere in real life; now there's none in real life and none on the computer. Or, maybe two of them. Who knows.

What absolute lameness, though.

Oh.

The ex just dropped off my shit, and picked his up. His hair was cut, and he was freshly shaven. Either he was on his way to somewhere important, or he wanted to look good. I had wanted to look good. So he'll maybe ponder what he's missing. Also, supposed to go out with pals but now I'm not so sure about that.

I'm crying just a little, and I don't know why.

Idiot.

The exbf obviously does NOT realize that with just a little bit of cooperation he could have ended this relationship on one of the most positive notes ever. Granted, most of my relationships have ended with very little fallout, so I guess I'm sort of up for this sort of thing, but ALL I want is to get rid of his clothes, and get my CD and money back.

For revenge, I would like to have every stripper and bartender in the city turn on him and his friends.

And, if he'd only taken care of this shit real fast in the first place, I'd have foregone any revenge at all.

Stupid fucker.

Vortex! Whirlpool! Flushing Action!

While I often get uncomfortable reading other people's "vortex of self-pity" type posts, I'm flailing pretty bad, emotionally speaking, so somehow, somewhere in this post I'll hopefully shit out a kernel of meaning that will make me go "Oh!" and move on with life.

There's that whole problem where bad things happen at once, and since I'd known for weeks (in the back of my head) that I needed to initiate the breakup sequence [5-4-3-2-heartbreak!], I decided that since other Bad Things were happening I may as well get it over with just to deal with everything at once. It could have been a bad decision, as this morning's almost complete numbness to life and obligations meant I laid in bed semi-conscious while the volunteer event I've been looking forward to since spring passed me by.

I didn't even shower. After the House of Good Names, I've been a pretty fanatic showerer.

I think one major problem is that, with the anxiety bit going unassisted, the depression bit seems even worse because, while I'm not sure I'm ever actually happy on lithium, I do seem to be depressed quite a bit. So even though it does have some good effects, it no longer works for me. At all. So problem #1 is just getting into the clinic and hanging on until then.

There's also the problem that, while at the beginning of the relationship I was being super understanding because I knew how hard it was for Kyle to juggle everything, he seemed to want to be with me. But then that last email implied that he'd never had time for a relationship, he just didn't know how to tell me- which is so ridiculous that it's either 1) not true and I'm just panicking, or 2) he really was just using me for sex which he said was not true. Or implied. I actually erased his emails pretty quick because having reminders of him felt distasteful to me.

There's more, but I don't even have the energy to evaluate all that. Now every time I drink juice (and I'm craving some right now) I'm going to think of him. That's the worst part: the juice. If I could just drag myself out of a complete malaise I'm sure I could go do something constructive like take a walk or write in the park (I'm behind on my NaNoWriMo), but it's hard to claw through.

Well!

It lasted about 2 hours longer than "this", and now it's over there's a surprising sense of relief. I don't care how cute and smart a boy is, I learned before that what looks awesome on paper doesn't usually translate to awesome in real life.

Mom told me awhile ago that one of her major regrets is not teaching my brother and me to rely on our intuition and instincts. Sometimes it's hard to even recognize intuition, but this time it was slapping me in the face for at least a week and a half. It's not that I didn't rely on it; it's that I didn't want to deal with it in the first place. *I* wasn't the one who wanted out, but I'm also never a person to try and force a relationship into a place it's not meant to go. If a man can step into a relationship he should be able to step back out, with honesty and forthrightness to the woman he is seeing. That's what hurts- the thought that even though Kyle liked me (he better have), he stayed even though he didn't want to. Why does that hurt? Should I be flattered somehow that he tried to tough it out? It just makes me mad. It makes me feel DECEIVED. And being deceived means there was no respect, no caring... I guess that's what hurts.

On the bright side, now I can lose 10 pounds, get gussied up, and loiter in book stores looking for a new and better one.

(Ok, still hurting.)

Oops

You know how sometimes you spend 2 days straight writing and saving, but not sending, drafts of an email? And how it's going to the one person you need it to sound perfect for, so you keep polishing and retrying and trying again? Then you FINALLY send it, and 2 minutes later you're on the toilet and the PERFECT sentences float into your head? You know that?

It's like that.

I might softly vomit a little to myself.

I'm definitely going to cry. Vulnerability + nerves = lots of crying.

It was too soon to tell if it would last forever, but I hope it lasts longer than this.