Sunday, April 1, 2012

Day 209: Crazy, crazy, crazy, and more crazy.

"How do you document real life when real life's getting more like fiction each day?" 

Hello again, kids. So, seriously, I'm thinking of turning my life into a book one day. Or a TV Series. My life would easily fit into one it seems, sometimes. 

Wednesday night, I got completely shmammered, and got to do something I've been aching to do for a long time. Pixie, Monkey and I were all hanging out having a Chick Night (plus token Penis) with the required chocolate, booze, and chick flicks. Well, after we'd gotten sufficiently lit, Pixie decided that we should all go for a walk around the apartment complex. {{Side note: Pixie is the old friend from high school I mentioned. The one I'm currently living with.}} Unfortunately, I'm one of the not-so-uncommon types that gets more buzzed if I move around while drinking. 

So while we were out walking, we ended up at the playground near R's apartment {{ Did I fail to mention we all now live in the same complex? ... -.-' Yeeeeaaaahhhh....}} and were just joking around and laughing for a while until New Girlfriend showed up. That's when my mouth got the better of me a little bit, but I didn't actually do anything. Just ... got a little snarky.... and called her "trash". 

{{Keep in mind, I am not proud of any of this part. I'll let you know when I get the part I am proud of.}}

Well, that part blew over, of course, and we kept on doing what we had been; and then R came out of the apartment, walking, I assume, his dog; and that's when things got interesting. I don't remember a lot of it clearly, but I remember I had a good old fashioned, come-to-Jesus church sermon type discussion with Monkey and Pixie about how R didn't deserve me. I'd been a good wife to him for the most part. I'd done everything I could do for him, and he never appreciated any of it. So, basically, the light FINALLY came on upstairs. ... It gets better. 

As if that wasn't enough, R came over to try and talk to us after I called him a coward. That was when I finally got to do something I've been itching to do for years. I got in his face and made him listen to me while I completely unloaded on him about what a completely shitty asshole he is. Then, {{and this is the part I'm proud of in its twisted way}} for some reason  that I don't entirely recall, I reared back and slapped the ever-loving piss out of him. I had been wanting to do that for yeeeeaaaarrrrrssss. Literally. Years. 

Now, I am not proud that I did all this while inebriated. Believe me. However, I am proud that I actually, finally, at least did it. In its own sick way, it made me feel a lot better about things. R is still trying to say that he pushed me into it. That he was goading me on so I would. Part of me believes him, but most of me doesn't give a shit; and that is one thing that I am infinitely proud of. 


Unfortunately, all of that combined with other events made me realize something else as well. 

I've had to almost completely cut Monkey out of my life now. I was reminded of just how far he'd fallen for me, and it scares the hell out of me. Don't get me wrong, he's a wonderful man; but I can't have someone in that position for me right now. 

He's hurt, and he's pissed at me, and he should be. Hell, he was in my position that I was in with R, so it's not like I don't know how he feels; but at least his was only a puppy love. He says it isn't, but I know the difference. Been there. Done that. 

I still love him, obviously, but as I tried to tell him, he's so much further into this relationship than I am, it's only going to end up hurting him; and I won't do that to him. I can't. I care too much about him to put him through the hell I went through with R. 

So I feel like an absolute shit for it, but I figured it would just be easier on him at least if we didn't really have anything to do with each other. For a while. We haven't even known each other for a year, and he was already saying he was "in love" with me. I can't have that. I still don't even love myself yet. I will though. In time. I just need to figure out who the hell I am to love. So does he; and I have the feeling he'll figure that out a lot sooner than I will. 


Anyway, on a lighter note, I did something else I've been meaning to do for a while as well. I finally got my belly ring. I've been wanting to do it for years, but I finally just got the nerve up to do it, literally, the other day. I'm pretty excited, and proud. Sad, right? I'm twenty-one, and all giddy about a belly ring? 

I have to admit, though, I found it pretty ironic that while I was doing some research on how to care for it, I learned that belly rings are used in some forms of Hinduism as a ritual thing. They're connected to the Third Chakra, or Manipura, and associated with the control of our inner energy and control over our emotions. I'm still doing a little more homework on this one, since I would like to actually know what the hell it is that I'm talking about for sure, but I think that's the basic gist of it. 

So, my whomever-you-are's, this is where I leave you. Have to get ready for work. I have a fun-filled day of wrestling, very little tips, and very angry rednecks ahead of me. Woo-fucking-hoo. Ah well. I'll get through it, right? 

One Day At A Time. 

Song today: Godsmack - Voodoo

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