I closed at work tonight. which was highly annoying to be honest. Yet mentally manageable at least.
Meanwhile the dude who was supposed to close with me, left with like 40 people still in the building…so left me with a broken mic, stuck at the front desk unable to leave and tell people we are closed. In a fucking massive gym. This isn’t Boston Sports Club bud. Get the next bus…
It was lame.
I have to open now though too.
So I took an adderall to keep me going.
(I’ve always had a soft spot for them)
With the hyperventilating blue eyed, pretty boy tossed over her shoulder.
Telling him princess stories and singing Fleetwood Mac
How fast I go from caring WAYY too much.. to honestly not really caring at all.
I’ve always weirdly been that way. It’s how I used to trick psychiatrists and therapists I was a changed kid.
*See guys, look how long it took me to realize I have to act like a saint for just a month after acting like a little lunatic for 8 months*
But now I’m realizing it’s always kinda pertained to a lot of other random situations in my life. The way my personality is I suppose.
I’m all in. until I’m all out.
There’s no middle with me. The middle is confusing. Usually messy also. I don’t care for it.
and it’s annoying. but I can’t force myself to feel something..I just don’t?
A lot of my favorite photos seem to remind me of my ex so much. Which in turn, makes me write about him a lot. I can’t tell if its therapeutic or unhealthy.
It is indeed, though…. better than venting and crying on the shoulder of someone who’s in love with you.
For three years my ex kept promising me we would go to coney island for my birthday. I actually believed him, which sucks..I thought at least someday?
Instead a day or so before my birthday he ran off from his sober house, after coming to visit me. I had a feeling that might happen. So he relapses after about two months…I just remember facetiming him at the ER. He wanted to come to my apartment for the night, I couldn’t do that though (and my mom and his dad told me not to) I did whatever convincing I could do, and he went back to detox.
No Coney Island, just wasted effort and your sick idea of love.
But my best friend took me to “half moon beach” which was nice of her. At least one person made an effort. I am truly thankful for that
The scary and special thing about you, is that you are someone that can relate to both dark sides of my past. You’re also the only one who I can say that about. Because no one else has experienced both places, and the same people.
You don’t just know where my pain began, I met you at the place that changed my life forever. The place that turned me into the scared, weak , little girl I spent years pretending I wasn’t.