I have the next two days off work. I am crying nonstop, on the hour, every hour. My ex won’t text me back to arrange plans to talk in person again. I don’t know why I’m doing myself the heartache anyways. I guess I just want to see him one more time before I say goodbye.
He’s trying to convince me a goodbye would be a mistake. He doesn’t talk to me, he’s incessantly cruel to me, he doesn’t seem to take my feelings into consideration or feel the need to do anything to keep me in his life other than say he wants me in his life. And so now I’m drinking.
I’m pretty new to it. I got drunk for the first time last week. I was giddy and uncontrollably happy. It was nice… And tonight I’m alone. I have a disgusting bottle of cherry vodka that tastes overwhelmingly like maraschino cherries–of which I like, but the vodka is just too much–and so I’ve decided I want it out of my cupboard.
I went to the store and bought 2 cartons of eggnog this evening. I figured that’ll have enough punch to take the edge off the vodka. And it does. It’s still a pretty horrible mixture, and the eggnog curdles on contact, but what the hell do I care anyways. I’m not supposed to know what I’m doing. I’m just here to find my bliss.
Just now I’m starting to notice my head get warm. My migraine doesn’t hurt so bad at the moment. I have TMJD, and I’ve been clenching my teeth all week, day and night, with the stress and anxiety I’ve been feeling. Maybe I can try and relax my jaw tonight. Maybe I won’t have such a headache come sunrise.
–I’m off to pour another drink now. I feel the need to say “be right back”, though when you read this it will be a seamless transition. Nonetheless–be right back.–
‘kay, we’re good. I found some Fanta at the back of my fridge, that certainly helps with the cherry vodka too. I’m starting to feel a little more depressed, however. I’m anxious about possibly seeing him [my ex] tomorrow, and I feel bloated and fat. I want to look good for him. I want to look like somebody worth missing and having regrets over, not some hung over, bloated fool. Who am I kidding though. He won’t look at me.
–I’m hoping I’ve been doing a good job at keeping literate throughout all this.–
I’m still just a virgin drinker. It’s not taking much to get me going here. I’m not feeling much happier as of yet, however. But maybe this is what I need. Maybe I need to be an alcoholic. Maybe that will be my distraction. I can go to AA meetings, I can meet new people, and I can focus all my energy into some other aspect of this slice of misery I’m supposed to call life.
–I just belched. And it felt pretty awesome.–
But in all seriousness, I’m 20 and I haven’t done anything. I’ve only just tried alcohal. I’ve never smoked. I’ve never tried marijuana, or any other type of drug. I’ve more or less struggled with an eating disorder since middle school, but that’s been ongoing for so long it doesn’t even bear impact anymore. Maybe I need something new to struggle with. Maybe I just need to pour all my sorrows into a devastating illness; an addiction. They say misery loves company, and so maybe I will just keep adding to mine until it all cancels out… right?
And these are my confessions.