I would never do something stupid. Just throwing that out there beforehand.
But really~ am I okay?
I'm not an alcoholic, but I love getting drunk as many nights a week as possible because it helps me forget.
I smoke way too many cigarettes. 10-15 a day is too many. But then I can go an entire day without even one. Without wanting a cigarette, "needing" one, whatever. So I tell myself I'm not addicted.
I rarely eat. I just don't get hungry. And when I do get hungry it's at the oddest moments... like when I'm hurrying to work... I feel like I'm going to pass out. When I go to get food though it just looks fucking gross... so I don't eat. I drink juice or something periodically to keep my blood sugar up.
Like in the past two days, I kid you not, I have only eaten two pieces of pita each with a smear of hummous on them. I got really hungry today at work so I made myself a huge gyro with fries... two bites latter I guiltily threw it in the trash when Nabiel wasn't looking. I felt so bad.
And then I drink on an empty stomach, and usually end up puking ten shots and a couple beers latter.
I pass out, and sleep for 2-3 hours before stumbling off to work.
Depending on my work schedule between both jobs my sleeping patterns get really messed up. Often I work from 7am to 9:30 and then go back into work at 11, doing my makeup getting dressed in that hour and a half space. I'll usually work 11-4 and either get out early and hang out with friends (repeat the same thing over) or I go back into work and work 6-9 and then hang out with friends (repeat the same thing over). Orr.... if I only work 4-9 at my second job, I literally pass the fuck out after getting home at 9:30 in the am and groggily go to work at 4pm. That's the weirdest schedule for me, just because it feels like my day is just getting going at like 5pm. And so then I don't sleep until 4/5 in the morning, and literally get a short 2 hour nap-- which is way too short when you are already highly intoxicated.
One thing that feels really good right now is to have the stress of money off my shoulders for the most part. I can't believe Mama and Daddy are paying for my rent right now- it's crazy that someone would do that. But for real, I've been able to comfortably put aside a huge chunk of the money I do make, it makes me feel really good about myself. I love that I almost have $400 and I don't have to chuck it all at some landlord tomorrow just so I can have a place to live for the next thirty days- that if anything, would be the number one suicide incentive.
Without stressing about money, I don't feel overly guilty about buying a new set of clothes and a pair of shoes... and I feel damn sexy walking around... I feel damn good about myself.
Isn't that what living is really all about?
Feeling damn good about yourself?
Honestly, I love who I am. But I think I love me for all the wrong reasons~ or all the different reasons.
And while these are not in order of preference....
I love me because:
I love to work.
I have a fucking gorgeous ghetto booty.
I love to smile.
I will always laugh.
I put everyone else first.
I have a very kind heart.
I would never want to hurt anyone.
I think, a lot.
But you know,
Sometimes I feel like it's not me. Like I'm seriously watching the story of a girl play out in front of me. And this girl~
She is the sweetest, kindest person you will ever meet. But she kind of thrives on pain. You know how some people thrive on causing others pain? She thrives on her pain. And she doesn't know why. She wishes it wasn't like that, but she's okay with it. It's weird.
She wishes that she wasn't so thoughtful sometimes~ and that shit wasn't illegal. For some reason she likes doing stupid things that make her feel like a badass...
She would never rob a bank, she'd love to, but she never would. So instead she'll switch all the campaign signs in the neighborhood, put a bloody baby doll on someone's porch... those innocent "who the hell is fucking with me" moments... and nobody suspects the beautiful young writer sipping a pumpkin chai latte whilst on her apple computer at the coffee shop downtown.
And then deep inside she's just a hurt little motherfucker that really doesn't know what she wants... why she's living.. you know all that bullshit.
Maybe it's just being a teen.
But then hell, I'm turning 20 in a couple months.
There's a full moon out tonight...
Most of the time I'm pretty happy and content and shit with where I am... I forget that I'm not perfect, and I forget that maybe I should change.
But then nights like tonight... when I have no stimulants, and I'm feeling foreveralone kinda shit (I do believe the term for females in this state may be... ahem~ do we say, "pmsing"?) I start to write because it's a good way to just blow shit out there... you know it won't change anything, but at least you fucking got it out-- and maybe somehow it helped you figure something out.
I think it did.
This post isn't nearly as informative or depressing as I was imagining... but I think what I got out of it is, just keep living. I think too deep. I worry a fuck ton. People love me how I am. I love me how I am. There is no right way~ so I am perfect.