pudding

it's easier to write the things you can't say, even if they are the wrong things.

i'm still wearing last night's eyeliner. it was a good evening.

got my schedule for next week. i work 7am-2:30 pm on my birthday. fucking awesome.

walking around. talking too loud. got the music on.

it's going to be one of those nights. i hope joe decideds to sleep at work tonight. rolls eyes, and exits stage left.

the sucktasticness continues. changed the ringtone on my phone, the other one was like a punch to the skull everytime i heard it. oh sweet radio driven irony, fuck the radio. i'm clean but i don't feel clean.

so i was sitting in the car with jax and kelsey and kelsey says, "what do you want to do for your birthday? just dinner?" and inside my head i screamed, hell no! i want to do something great. but what is this great thing i want to do? i have not fucking idea. of course i have no idea, i'm sitting here watching sex...
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i have spent a lot of time asking myself what to do next and today i got the answer. wait.


and now i have no one to talk to. god damn i want someone to talk to.

i feel like an asshole

today was the first day of therapy and it was good. the lady is really nice but like every good therapy session i left feeling like someone had emotionally beat me all to hell. i experienced another hallmark of a good session, i almost cried, almost. i was supposed to go to a AA meeting tonight but i couldn't find the damn place and was...
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