If my head and my heart would just agree...

I am okay. I still feel a little bowled over by the whole thing, but he's made his choice, now I must deal with it. It has only been a week.

I seem to be back to having no readers. I'm chalking it up to the busy year end bustle.

I am okay. It happened again, but I didn't freak out. Two shots, two vodka martinis, one beer. I was good. No binge drinking. I found comfort in the posh confines of a good friend's home.

Of course, he called. At 4:52am, he called from a private number. As if I were one of his other girls that doesn't know how things work. He called again, because for once, the ball was in my glove. It was my turn to make him sweat it out for a few. When I finally answered, he understood. I told him this was the last time I was going to tolerate this mistreatment. I told him to shut up because it was my turn to speak my peace.

And I spoke. But now, I'm wondering why I didn't keep my mouth shut. We're back to not speaking, better than that, we're back to Marcus not speaking to me.

It's like he doesn't care what I have to say. It's like I could hand him the moon with the stars on the side and he'd still not appreciate anything I do.

It's the same emo-bullshit over and over. Year in year out. I've never felt like this about anyone. Frankly, I don't want to feel like this about anyone again, ever.

It's not like this is something new. Marcus makes his own decisions regarding my life.

Let me add something exceptionally fucked up: A "friend" of mine has decided that in regards to Marcus, I have Stockholm Syndrome. That really cracks me up.

AND OFF the emo-bullshit.

I've got to start blogging more. I've got to start writing more. Right now, as it stands, I've got a 3.01 OR a 3.75 depending on how you look at it. If I simply complete the test for Juvenile Delinquency, I'll get a B in that class. Looks like, according to the papers I've been handed back, I've got an A in OA and a high B or low A in African American History....I can make heads nor tales of what I've got in Philosophy, but I am THINKING it's got to be a high B, possibly a low A. So I've got to start studying for the LSAT. That's a weird thing to me. When I was a just a little ankle-biter (I really did bite people, that's not just a figure of speech...), I've wanted to be a lawyer. Then all the felonies came and I gave up. I assumed that my record would bar me from taking the BAR. Apparently, that's not the case.

Grad school is still something I would LOVE to do. I wouldn't make as much money in the long run, but I'd be much happier. However, it seems that my writing is terrible.

I'm done for now. I'm in pain, I am going to lie down.

and the shit hits the fan...

It has happened again. I've busted Marcus in yet another lie. I'm not shocked. I'm not depressed (yet.) I'm just basically numb. I don't really feel anything at all.

I just want to get in my car and drive somewhere. I'm not sure where I am going. I've already got the work thing covered. So I am packing up my books and my bag and I am hitting the road.

November, November, November

It is cold. It is raining. I just had a normal conversation with the Evil one. I'm still just blank.
I have a test at 4:30. I'm guessing that I know what I am doing...But do I ever really know what I am doing?

The semester is coming to an end. I've got 3 weeks to write a 12 page, two 3 pages, a 9 page, and whatever the hell it is Teresa wants for her class. It seems all I do is sleep anymore. I sleep at work. I sleep at home. Sometimes I sleep in class.

A friend asked me to dinner for Saturday...Not just any dinner. A nice dinner. I have a feeling he's interested in more than dinner and more than sex. He's a decent guy, but that's just not what I want from him.

The professor asked if I was single. When I said, yes, he let me know that he was, too. There was no follow up on that. I mentioned this to Marcus, partially because I don't understand men and partially because I wanted to let him know...Out of guilt or spite or...something. I wanted a reaction. I'm still smirking because while it wasn't monumental, I did get what I wanted.


My love life is shot all to hell and there's no one to blame. I didn't ask the Evil one to cheat on me. I didn't plan on anything that has happened with him in the last year. I'm dark and twisty now, like the gnarled trunk of a bonsai. I'm hesitant to express admiration for fear of rejection. I hesitant not to express admiration for fear of regret. I don't trust anything that people say.

bed now.

Everyone is lonely; No one wants to admit it.

I fucked up. One week of sobriety and I threw it all washed it all down the drain with some Red Bull.

I'm okay with this. I know my sobriety is not permanent. I am following the sober life long enough to make it through Grad school (or law school). Then I can enjoy my life like people without addictions. I know that any trip out of this God forsaken state will warrant some cocktails at the first jazz club I can find. I'm not disappointed that I failed.


I sat there, midday, drinking my double vodka, thinking.

And the more I thought about it, the more it nagged me. Something that I couldn't pinpoint picked at my brain. I tried to drown the nagging with more vodka. Isn't that what drinking is for? To silence the thoughts that we don't want to hear?

Six double vodka red bulls and $50 later, it worked. It worked because it always works momentarily.

As I sat in class and the alcohol left my body, it clicked: I had let him down. The one that believes in me. The guy that thinks that I can own the world. He's let me down more than I can count, but it still hurt. I didn't tell on myself. I sent a cryptic text, but I didn't outright say, "Hey, I'm fucking up as we speak."

No, I'm not disappointed in my failure, I am disappointed in my betrayal. I didn't let myself down because I have realistic expectations regarding attainable goals.

No sleep 'til Brooklyn...

Okay, maybe not Brooklyn, but at least until graduation.

I just watched Bunni's vlog and apparently stressing so much you can't sleep isn't just something I do...At least she had vodka and chicken feet.

I sat at home last night. Fell asleep in the middle of the OSU game. Not that it matters, everyone pretty much knew how that would end. I wasn't too worried about LSU. Tulane never wins that battle. I woke up at what I THOUGHT was 4:45am. Stupid daylight savings. What's it good for anyways?

I've tried four times to go back to sleep and it's just not happening. I've been looking at apartments online. The decent ones that I have found are not listed on apartmentfinder.com...Go figure. I talked to Marcus about the lease and got a new speech. He feels that I should find somewhere to move into that I can sign my own lease so that I can build my credit.

It's not that I haven't thought about this. It's that I don't feel I can get an apartment with no rental history since 2001, no credit to speak of, and the stupid other things. I'm sure with ONE issue, I could pull it off. But three? Doubtful.

Ahhhh...yes. Sleeping pill finally kicked in. Peace out.