I’ve spent the last two hours playing WOW and trying to escape into another life for a while. It was working, mostly. I had a shitty day…and it had nothing at all to do with work, of course. It started with a shitty night last night and it took all of my emotional energy to fake it through the day. Putting my drama on the back burner only works when I throw myself into distractions. My charge was not really obliging…my attempts to engage were met with laughter and a dismissive turn of the heels. She really wanted to do her own thing…and I let her. But, I couldn’t focus on my studies in the non-interactive times and I really didn’t feel like cooking. I’m drained…so I guess it’s good that she didn’t want much from me, in retrospect. When her husband came home, I had to ask him the humiliating question of putting my roommate’s name on the check instead of mine. I know I could’ve signed it over to him, but it felt like that would be even more stressful. I’ve had checks signed over to me that the bank would not deposit and knowing my luck lately, that’s precisely what would’ve happened…and I’m not positive that I could get the bank to cash the entirety of the check…which I desperately needed for rent. With a warm, fatherly smile, he had me follow him upstairs to his office. I looked at the pictures on the walls while he wrote the check out to me. I commented on how beautiful his family is and he told me stories about the pictures. I wanted to say it gave me hope, but the thought alone in light of everything else brought a lump to my throat. I don’t know why that thought makes me want to cry…whether it’s because I need to believe it so desperately or because I really am entirely hopeless.
I came home and had the last of my crown royal with a soda from the liquor store on the corner. I watched ‘Poetry’ and lost myself in the melancholy beauty of the film. I should’ve been relieved after, but I needed more of an escape. So, wow it was until my roommate came home with the mail.
Someday had something of mine…Christ, I don’t even like than name for her because I would die a happy woman if I never see her face, hear her name or THINK of her again…but, alas, it’s the name I chose when I was dumb enough to fall for the bitch. I stood warned. I knew I stood warned and I didn’t care. I know she felt something for me…you can’t fake connections like that. But, I didn’t want to believe her when she told me how deeply emotionally fucked up she is. She said one of the last times I heard from her that she is happy she met me because I made her realize she could be loved again. Hurray for me. I gave her the confidence to go out and snag herself what she really wanted…a sugar mama. She probably wove tails of lie after lie about me to this woman who is no doubt possessive, but equipped to give her what she wants…an escape from living with grandma. I was shaking with adrenaline when I saw the unfamiliar scrawl and her girlfriend’s name in the return address. What was inside the envelope was nothing but a folded up piece of notebook paper that says, “I believe this belongs to you. Thanks. Sugar Daddy & Someday”. At that point, I was shaking with rage…I felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach. I wanted to scream with rage…punch holes in the wall…break something…everything. FUCK YOU BOTH. I didn’t deserve that. I didn’t deserve any of the ridiculous shit that woman did to me…all because I committed the grave sin of loving the woman I knew she could be. But, she didn’t have the same values I did. I was blinded to that. If I’d been financially able to be her knight in shining armor, I think things would’ve gone differently, I imagine. Unless she IS truly sick in the head. I tried to be kind and understanding. It was a relief to talk to someone who felt as trapped as I did in their life. She needed rescuing, too. Love alone sustained me…but, she aptly said that she had enough love in her life from her children. Another kick in the gut. Christ. I don’t even want to think of her anymore…and it is my fervent wish that this cerebral emesis will exorcise this demon…this final fuck you from the universe along with an overdraft notice.
I am so tired of crying…and I keep trying to keep them at bay, but they threaten with ferocity that often ends in a defeated sob.
Why do I try? I try SO hard to live my life with a positive attitude and hope for the future, but I feel like I get fucked at every turn no matter how many fucking affirmations I repeat in my obsessive compulsive mind. I feel like my brain’s hemispheres just don’t connect well enough to be able to process all of these feelings into something I can get out. Was starting over worth it? Was seeking myself worth it? I feel like a failure. I know I’ve achieved a lot in the last year and I know I should be proud of myself…I just can’t get past this horrible feeling I can’t put words to. I’m not even sure words exist for it in the english language. Anguish, frustration, melancholy, sadness…It’s like only being able to describe primary colors when what you really want is a tertiary. Broke, tired, pathetic, defeated. Drunk…and smoking like a chimney.
I need to escape somehow…I need to fast forward to a better time. I’m tired of always telling myself that it’s not far away.