Soul Sucker

I've been called a soul sucker.  Killer of fun.  My response?  Fuck you.  That's my response.  You asked for it.  You want your soul to be sucked.  You crave a killjoy.  Be careful what you wish for, asshole.  You want to make me feel bad for having an opinion?  For calling out the surplus of salami that you have at home when you throw another pack in the cart at the grocery store (no pun intended, seriously - you already had a full pack of salami at home!)?  Double-take my raised eyebrows accompanied by a knowing nod when you grab your bag of work clothes for tomorrow at 10pm the evening before?  I get it.  I fucking get it, asshole.  You're not coming home tonight.  Do you think for a second that I don't enjoy washing down a sleeping pill with a vodka soda and having the bed to myself?  If you wanted it easy, you picked the wrong fucking girl.  I will make you cry.  I will make you miserable.  I will make you earn your keep.  And chances are, you will like it.  If you don't like it, you can move the fuck on.  But you won't.  Because I take care of you.  Just like your mother (according to you.  I'm just. like. her.).  Well, I do love and resent you at the same time, just like you're mother. You've been inside of both of us at one time or another.  And it kills you.  I am a fucking bitch, just like you called it.  That night - sorry, those nights - when I dare questioned you.  I may trust you, but I don't have to fucking like it, asshole.  Play with me?  Are you familiar with the Rolling Stones song?  They didn't know it, but they wrote that song about me.  I am your mother.  I'm your sister.  I'm your ex-girlfriend.  Your ex-wife.  Your ex-soul.  Everything you hate about yourself is embodied in me.  I wave my weaknesses like a flag.  I've earned that flag.  And there's nothing you, or I, can do about it.  It just fucking is.  So fucking deal with it.  Just like I do.  Fucking deal, asshole.  I love you too.   

It's been a long time...

....since I've wanted to throw my phone out the window.  But alas... the time has come.  Of course I won't do it.  At least I still have scruples.

I'm so many things right now.  Angst.  Sad.  Angry.  Emo.  Drunk.  Content.  How does this happen? No one really knows... and if they did, they would soon forget.

My tragedy versus your tragedy - - - who will win?  No one.  We will both lose.  We will both make excuses... "I've been through this, so therefore (and obviously!?) I should be allowed this behavior."

"Um, well, I've been through this, so I get to do this.  Take it or leave it.  This is WHO.  I.  AM."

I was one of those two people, I won't say which one (I was the less douchey sounding one, trust me).  But regardless, they/we both sound CRAZY.

In the end?  So far, no end.  No end in sight.  Phones.  Texting.  Not answering.  Crying.  Feeling free.  Feeling like my emotions are closing in on me.  Suffocating.  Fuck it.  

First Few Hours

Last night was one of those nights... ironically enough, today was also one of those days. Angst ridden... as in wanting a vodka tonic at 10:30am. But I made it through the ups and downs and even managed to: get some work done, have coffee with an old friend, lend an ear, plan meetings in Paris and Italy, allow a co-worker to upset me to the point of swearing out loud and slamming the bathroom stall door multiple times while swearing, say hi to my daughter and her best friend, bribe my daughter to clean my bathroom for $20, eat sushi, see a comedy show, celebrate a friend's birthday, go to 3 different bars, miss my train, struggle to find a cab driver that would take me from San Francisco to Oakland, nearly die on the way home, get car sick, finally make it home, and thank my lucky stars.

It's late for me to be up, but without klonopin to help me sleep this week... I am up and down constantly throughout the night. Annoying for sure, but such is life. Not that life is annoying, but the whole sleeping thing - - definitely annoying. I mean, why don't I just get out of bed at 5am when I wake up? So many reasons..... the most recent being that I have better dreams during my morning hours when I'm half awake. Quite delightful, really. I love the first few hours in the morning.... whatever the time might be. I like to spend my first two hours awake, in bed. Today I got a cup of coffee and went back to bed.... best thing ever. I love sleeping after coffee. Half asleep, half awake, crossing over. It's the same on the weekends.... (sadly?)

And now, I will give myself over to the lull of my laptop and a generic foreign film or a really bad B movie to put myself to sleep.... and a beer, perhaps. And a good night.

....one of those nights

It's one of those nights (a Wednesday, no less) when I just want to drink and listen to music... and drink more and listen to more music. Thinking about things that make me want to run away.... even though they don't even yet exist. I know this feeling. This reeling. Sigh. Deep sigh... I've missed you.

I am a machine

I loved someone...once upon a time. I didn’t know that I loved him until he broke my heart. He broke my heart more than once. More than twice. It happened over and over again. I sat by and let it happen, I watched as though it were happening to someone else. Fuck me while you're breaking my heart. Leave me while you’re breaking my heart. Come back and knock on my door and see if I’m strong enough to let you in to do it all over again. Trust me, I am strong enough.

I am invincible. I am a machine. I’m a fucking, sucking, story telling machine. I’ll tell myself any and everything so that I believe the words as they fall from my mouth. I’m a soul sucker, a non-believer. I can do anything and most of the time I do. I have less to lose than the typical person, and especially less than the typical girl. In my mind I lost everything a long time ago. I don’t really remember when… I don’t actually know if I ever really had anything at all. I came from a place devoid of a belief system. It was always about survival. If you truly want to survive you have to let go of your beliefs. They will only taunt you and drag you down. Can I get naked to support my daughter and myself? Yes, I can. Can I convince myself that a man loves me so that I don’t feel alone anymore? Yes, I can. Can I snort/smoke/swallow these drugs to make it all go away? Oh yes, yes I definitely can.

Don’t get me wrong, I have truly loved. I have truly lost. I’m obsessed with loss. I sometimes think that I love just to lose. Because that’s what I know. A sure thing? No thank you. That’s much too easy.

who do you work for?

...good question. I don’t even want to think abut the answer to that. I fear that the answer would be too disappointing. That it might “lessen” my opinion of myself… how myself views...myself that's a joke.  Hah.  Wow. Next topic.

When I drink… no, when I am alone – truly alone, and I drink, I think of certain things. Things that make me cry. It’s like my teenage autopilot kicks in and I’m 17 again. The only difference is 20 years and the fact that now I kind of decide which little daggers I allow to come at me from every angle. And I just let them go/come – all of them, all at once. This happens every time I am alone, without fail. Be it vacation, a holiday, a day off of work – it doesn’t matter. Apparently - - this is what I live for. This is what I work for...moments when I can release my daggers. And then I work so very hard to cover up the scars that the daggers leave behind. The thing is, is that I enjoy the process. I start off with the most painful memories and top it off with all of the things that I should have done and shouldn’t have done. Throw in a dash of what I could have done differently. It’s a no-fail recipe. Suddenly, I long, I want, I regret, I dream, I wish, I envelope myself in turmoil that in my day-to-day life is long gone. But suddenly I am - again. And all of the days that I spend smiling and doing things for others fades away… my job, my polite way of always looking down at the ground when passing strangers, all of the times I hold my tongue - - that all disappears and suddenly I become a real person. A real person to me. Bent and destroyed. Damaged and broken. And in a way, beautiful and real.