tonight, i had a very weird conversation. my now ex-boyfriend's ex-girlfriend drunk texted me.
i have a feeling she and i are about to become very good friends.
today was a little bit better. spent the day being distracted by the massive green booze induced hangover of the night before. st patricks day is truly amateur drinker day, but somehow i found myself out at an irish pub with all my besties anyway. acting like an idiot. hey, at least i'm irish. *shrugs*
i'm still quite numb about it all.
i still don't really want to interact with many people.
and i kind of don't even know what to say about it anymore.
i've spent the past several weeks processing and analyzing and dealing with it. today, i just glazed over. can't think anymore. i think i'm at the "bury it and don't think about it" phase.
i very much look forward to hitting the "getting my mojo back" phase.
and the "able to eat 3 meals a day again" phase.
i keep finding myself drunk and coming on to an old lover of mine. he very graciously recognizes that i am in no condition for intimacy at the moment, and kindly declines my feeble/pathetic advances. he seems to not be holding them against me, but i keep waking up the next morning feeling sick about my behavior and feeling sick about the whole situation. consciously, i don't want to be with him, but i think i am just so goddamn lonely right now that i'm subconsciously acting out. being single fucking BLOWS.
anyway, that's enough of the emo.
i think i want to write a book about the history of stretch garments.
i've always wanted to write a book. and they say write what you know. well, i'm the unitard queen. so it only seems natural. who the hell would read a book about stretch garments though, aside from severely dedicated home sewers and theatre nerds?
maybe i'll do it anyway, even if it would be impossible for it to be successful. i like a challenge. i'm passionate about what i do. maybe i'm just worried that i'm not qualified enough to write a book.
*shrugs*
whatever.
thinking about taking a xanax and going to bed early... a la prochaine!
i have a feeling she and i are about to become very good friends.
today was a little bit better. spent the day being distracted by the massive green booze induced hangover of the night before. st patricks day is truly amateur drinker day, but somehow i found myself out at an irish pub with all my besties anyway. acting like an idiot. hey, at least i'm irish. *shrugs*
i'm still quite numb about it all.
i still don't really want to interact with many people.
and i kind of don't even know what to say about it anymore.
i've spent the past several weeks processing and analyzing and dealing with it. today, i just glazed over. can't think anymore. i think i'm at the "bury it and don't think about it" phase.
i very much look forward to hitting the "getting my mojo back" phase.
and the "able to eat 3 meals a day again" phase.
i keep finding myself drunk and coming on to an old lover of mine. he very graciously recognizes that i am in no condition for intimacy at the moment, and kindly declines my feeble/pathetic advances. he seems to not be holding them against me, but i keep waking up the next morning feeling sick about my behavior and feeling sick about the whole situation. consciously, i don't want to be with him, but i think i am just so goddamn lonely right now that i'm subconsciously acting out. being single fucking BLOWS.
anyway, that's enough of the emo.
i think i want to write a book about the history of stretch garments.
i've always wanted to write a book. and they say write what you know. well, i'm the unitard queen. so it only seems natural. who the hell would read a book about stretch garments though, aside from severely dedicated home sewers and theatre nerds?
maybe i'll do it anyway, even if it would be impossible for it to be successful. i like a challenge. i'm passionate about what i do. maybe i'm just worried that i'm not qualified enough to write a book.
*shrugs*
whatever.
thinking about taking a xanax and going to bed early... a la prochaine!
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all of these songs... make my "insides clench" of you Zooey.