teenager-type emotional shit

So, this is my ‘lunch time’ today. I’m sitting alone in a smoky bar and waiting for a cocktail – something fruity with vodka. I’m not feeling the best today, socially. Camilla (all names changed for privacy paranoia purposes) has been acting really bitchy today and anyways – I was not in the mood for adjusting to her whims and getting ordered around.

I’m sad. Why? Motherfucking Charlie (can I not come up with any fake names starting with something other than C?). I have not wanted something this badly for a long time. The more I stress (and obsess) about it though, the further away he gets.

Anyway, we were never close, I’m delusional and out of touch with reality, clearly. Still, I want him. Maybe him not wanting me makes me want him even more. (Definitely.) It is fucked up and I’m fucked up – I know. And it sucks. I always seem to be caught up in some fucked up emotional drama.

My “Fernet cherry” has just arrived. Yeah – I, who was HANGOVER AS HELL the whole weekend, and who swore to myself not to drink this week (I said – Friday is okay but no sooner; it is now literally Monday) – am drinking spirits again. Does this reek of alcoholism ? (Don’t answer that).

But fuck it. Am I alone? Yes. Feeling disconnected from people and myself? Yeah. But I wanted to go to the fucking city and get a fucking drink, and goddammit I did it, and I’m glad I did. I can sit here, slowly get tipsy, inhale the fucking thick smoke of this place, and ponder about my emotional fuck-up-dness. I miss some things… Happier times. Holidays. The sea. Simple times with friends. Should make a note of this for my life vision board (“lifebook”) – social life is fucking important to me, and so is the feeling of belonging.

So what about fucking Charlie? Nothing. There’s literally nothing you can do about someone who doesn’t like you, doesn’t talk to you, doesn’t make the effort. Nothing, NADA. And if I somehow made him care, somehow manipulated him into it, it wouldn’t be the same anyway. So I’m not gonna fucking do it. After my last fucked up relationship, I’m not going into anything unless I am wanted there. Fully and actively wanted. Not doing that one-sided effort crap anymore.

Does this make me sad? Does it make me feel fucking broken-hearted, does it make me wanna ball my eyes out? Yes. That’s why I’m day drinking alone in a fucking sad teenage bar. Clearly I’m sad and I feel hopeless and discouraged about the whole thing.

I wonder if it’s my abandonment issues that make it so. Does him ignoring me make me feel worthless? Yeah, a little; but more so I feel sad about not having “someone so great” in my life. #classicloveaddict

Because I think he is a good, proper, pure person with a heart that should be protected at all costs. THAT’S how I feel about him. That kind of sweet “love”. (And fuck anyone who wouldn’t call this love. Even if it is just infatuation, to me it feels as intense as anything would.)

I feel so desperate, so stupid, that I’m thinking about buying cigarettes (lol). I have some at home that I hid away so I wouldn’t smoke them. I even purposely didn’t take my lighter with me to prevent this. But I can just go and buy a fucking lighter along with a pack of anything. I know I’m being dumb, self-destructive, purposeless. If I could have, I would have gone to a park and meditated there – cried my shit out, and I’d be OK. But the parks are closed at this hour and I just ….

I don’t feel great in my body / I want my body to be different. I want my clothes to fit better and not to feel so fucking uncomfortable in everything. I want to wear goddamn hot clothing. I want to go to clubs and bars and events and not always worry about how my body looks. I wanna not feel like this anymore.

I don’t have much time left. I have to drink quick to come back before my hour is up. I feel excluded from the group although realistically, it’s just Josh again kto do mña cely skurveny deñ rype, and who’s making me feel awful, alone and insecure. That motherfucking narcissist. (Who else does that shit ?????? Only the most insecure people.) Even Nash seemed to express some interest over where the fuck I was going. And Camilla of course only cares if it suits her. Fuck that shit.

Maybe I’m fucked up today, but I’ll be fucked up good and I’ll get over it. I’ll drink, I’ll smoke, I’ll walk, I’ll listen to some EDM and then I’ll meditate and cry at home. Eventually… I’ll be okay.

In the end, we’re all alone anyways. I just wanted to be alone with him, if that makes sense.

🌧

If I could write you a motherfucking letter…

I’d say that this day was SHIT.

SO fucking shit.

Fucking polemic concert. Am I a middle aged man at a dedinská zábava ?

I was waiting for it to be over (just like bad sex) (does this signal low self esteem ?) and it just did NOT want to fucking end. They kept playing one more song and one more song. My ” friends ” were dancing excitedly. I felt way too sober and bored to.. do anything.

Once it ended, FINALLY, a motherfucking storm came on. A STORM!!! At a festival. They were closing down the tents and evacuating everyone. Talk about a shitty experience. But we stayed, we fucking stayed, hoping for it to be over. Someone got us some shots. One rum and three vodkas. I drank the rum, someone drank the vodka, and we split the other vodka in half. Next thing I know we’re going to a Nicolaus bar and I’m paying for more vodkas.

Next thing I know we’re in a rum bar and I’m holding one rum at first; (downed it, chased with Coca Cola); then downed another (white rum), chased with Red Bull or whatever. Next thing, we’re standing in yet another vodka bar, I downed a vodka shot. My friends said they were leaving. I was okay with it as they weren’t drinking anyways, and my friend said she’d take care of my stuff and I could come to her place afterwards. (REALLY fucking nice btw !!!!!!!) I was excited to stay with my “new”, “wild” friends. (It turned to shit, obvi.)

At first, me and the girl danced for a good half hour in this reggae/DNB tent. We went all in and I was sweating like crazy. Then, we all went somewhere again. The two of them were acting like lovers… And I was the third fucking wheel. Eventually, I got sick of it. I went to pee. I felt like crying. He came there somehow, there they were, he was being weird, guarding her toilet door and giving me some bullshit answers. I even told him I felt like crying. Nothing. No response from him.

Eventually, when she was done, they fucking walked away, holding each other at the waist. (???!!!) I was just standing there, invisible.

The old me would’ve fucking hid under a tree and cried; and probably would have sent some sad / hateful / long messages about how they both hurt me; I would have been sad about it the whole night & would make it mean something about myself.

The current me?

I fucking let them go.
I cruised through the festival crowd to go home. It was pouring rain. I did not pick up his one, pathetic call. I took my own chances.

I still expected him to at least fucking text me some apologetic, worried shit. The kind that says “are you fucking okay, being all alone and lost and DRUNK in this huge fucking festival ?????? Did we do something wrong????? Please come back ??? ”

No such texts have arrived, however. (I have briefly blocked him on messenger – then promptly unblocking him just to leave those fucking desperate messages on ‘read’.)

I’m halfway ‘home’ now (to my friend’s house), hope those two are fucking each other somewhere, and I hope they know they can forget about me. Obviously, this festival night has been a massive, major failure, full of mistakes, but it has revealed who my true friends are after all. I feel sad and sick about it all, but not sad enough to cry, and not sick enough not to crave a massive pizza. I’d call that – progress.

🍕🥃

Love Letters to my Body

❦
I guess I have a hard time feeling safe in here.

Here = in my body, in my environment; that is, no matter where I go. Really, it’s in me. Probably in my head.

Not journaling makes my day go by without intention. Without focus.

Sometimes it’s nice, but other times, you can see that’s just because the real stuff is burried deep within. It’s still there, still taking my energy, still making me what I am, just without my awareness. And that’s not good.

Because lately, I know things are not right. I know I’m running from myself and from life by being awake at odd hours, spending that time watching TV shows; not caring for myself. Not being in myself.

Why? I’ve been feeling really ugly and unworthy lately. So, so unattractive and a failure of every fitness thought or aspiration I ever had.

It’s been so bad, I don’t even want to look at myself. I just wanna hide.

And sure, I wanna use colors to make me look less ugly. That’s even good perhaps. But the junk eating? The weight gain, the lying in bed all day; clearly they’re all a result of a deep lack of self-love, it’s like I’ve given up on myself.

And when I look in the mirror, I tell myself how ugly I am. I ask myself, why are you so ugly. And I hate myself even more. I hate this ugly person, I hate her. And I have no desire to do anything nice for her, whatsoever.

I don’t let her paint. I don’t let her eat well. Sometimes, I don’t let her shower. I hate her hair. I hate her features, her fat, her bad posture, how weak she is.

Why am I talking about me as ‘her’?

Because that’s how truly disconnected I feel from the person I see in the mirror. I wanna have nothing to do with them.

Even imagining for a second that this is me forever and that I’m stuck with this ….I’d rather hide, I’d rather run. And that’s what brought me here in the first place.

Self love? How am I supposed to find things I love about myself when when I am such an opposite of all that I deeply appreciate: aesthetics and health and leanness.

How am I supposed to look in the mirror and live with myself. How am I supposed to respect this person that has drifted so far from herself?

I’m so deeply sorry to abandon myself like this.

I know I have some mental health issues. I know I haven’t been there for myself in all the ways that I could have been. I am deeply sorry.

I do not want to repeat the mistakes of my parents against their own souls. I want to heal.

And first I need to heal myself. With compassion. With presence. With connections, deep connection, really looking myself in the eyes with understanding.

I now understand my crazy dreams, the crazy faces; I even do it in real life; instead of being here. Instead of being here I criticize myself so deeply.

I hurt myself, I punish myself, I ignore myself, I isolate myself.

I’m being an awfully bad parent to my inner child, completely abandoning it, many times only offering abusive, hateful, judgmental and strict comments without taking any prisoners.

I’ve been all the things that I criticize other people for being and worse.

When I feel into my body, all I can sense is: neglect.

A body that’s been ignored, overlooked, unappreciated, uncared for, straight out forgotten. Is the body caring me through all of life.

This body that has been there for me since birth. That’s always there for me, even in the most stressful and difficult situations.

This body that can feel so good, that always protects me from an illness. I’ve been horrible to it. Controlling, restricting, judgmental, unappreciative and hateful. And I’m deeply sorry.

It’s time… To make peace with myself.

I may not be perfect. Many parts of me are not “meeting my ideal goal”.

But my soul is so kind and healing. My body has allowed me to travel and eat delicious food and receive love. My beauty has allowed me to feel good in the world.

And I know that if I want to make things better, to heal even more, I can only do that through patience, compassion, humility, acceptance, honesty, and most of all, presence.