Monday, August 26, 2013

Breakable. Breaking. Broken.

The Last Time (feat. Gary Lightbody) by Taylor Swift on Grooveshark

 Anyways. Yes. Whatever happens, this is your fault. 
I hope you feel guilty.
I hope you feel an ounce of the pain I've felt.
Thanks everyone for denying the existence of the Soybean, thanks for trusting me SO much, thanks for ALWAYS believing me, thanks for TELLING ME THE TRUTH every time I would ask a question. Thanks for making me feel crazy for having emotions when my husband ditched me in Europe. Not only did he ditch me, that would have been fine. I would have had fun alone. No, he ditched me and tossed me to the fucking wolves. I've been trying to defend myself, I've been trying to keep the wolves from ripping my heart out, but I only have so much stamina. One person alone can't fend off a hungry pack of wolves for that long. I'm pretty proud of myself for making it this far. I...don't know how I have. The wolves win. YAY, WOLVES YOU WIN!
Everyone wins.
There are 3 girls who deserve the world. They were on Mill with me the other night. Rather, 2 were on Mill and I had the most adorable, beautiful, loving note from the other one in my purse the whole time. It's kind of like she was there. No one else tries, at all, to get a hold of me. Those girls always manage just fine, even when I'm a total dickface and try to disappear without telling them.
Oh right. I guess they might be the reason I lasted this long. They haven't let me disappear.
All I ever want in life is your company. I don't want your money, or your clothes, or your job, or your life. I just want company. I want to discuss ideas. I want to make jokes. I want to look like an idiot in public and have someone besides me there, laughing at me too...I want someone to help me have fun when I've broken this or that, or got super sick, or whatever. Someone to drive me to get coffee when the anesthesia from surgery hasn't worn off yet, and then maybe drive to the Drama Club elections.  I want someone to yell at me to "WAKE THE FUCK UP!" I fucking despise you if you tell me condescending phrases, such as "Go to sleep", "Why don't you get some rest", "Have you slept?", "Have you been sleeping? You should sleep" and oh God.....the words of doom since I was little.... this is the guaranteed all-night anxious wreck/panic-attack phrase: "Go back to sleep".
I'm sure Katie remembers some eventful nights at her house when we were 8....before she caught on and we started staying outside until sunrise. So starting at about 9 years old we were walking the streets of suburbia at night, all night, alone. We were the coolest, dumbest children alive. 
I'm still the coolest and dumbest. Only not really, I'm pretty fucking smart even if you don't  believe my transcript, internships, research, and recommendations. I do dumb things every day. I calculate the risks in my head. If it is like almost guaranteed death I don't do it. If it can hinder ANY of my research or PhD program applications, or deter me from receiving scholarships, it is a resounding 'NO'. Lately, the highger the risk of death the more fun it is. I still won't do anything that might prevent me from proving all of you wrong about the PhD. thing though. I got my education just to throw the diploma in my dad's face and go do acting anyways. I've been imagining this 'revenge moment' in my mind since I was tiny. Yeah, I went into biology because my brother went into sound design 10 years before I went to college and got a B.A. not a B.S.... Since he's such a fuck-up, since he shows a serious lack of ambition and drive, and my parents actually paid for his schooling, I had to go to college and major in something "real".*** Thanks brother.
Okay so I did all this bullshit. Drug addiction research lab. NASA Space grant (EarthScope girl), and got into the research lab of the head of the School of Life Sciences. The man at the top of the School of Life Sciences let me in his lab. That one in particular was tough because it was the year after my mom died. We all know how great the 2012-2013 school year was for me, right? Right?
From June 2012- August 2013.
Holy. Fuck. 
If I had a crystal ball a year ago and was shown what was about to unfold up to this point...I would have taken a few more of those pills I was addicted to and saved myself the trouble. 
When I say I used to be addicted to drugs, I mean opiates. I also do not mean recently....I mean I was addicted to opiates most of the year I was 16. 
and also when I was 17..... Oh yeah I almost forgot those months when I was 18, but those almost don't was prescribed that time. Remember that time? My foot? The boot? Then the other foot...? Yeah.
annnnnd the addiction came back again at 21 from June to September. Fun, fun, fun. Right? Oh right. If you were around me whatsoever in that time period last year, I was most definitely on drugs. Because otherwise no one ever wanted to be around me.
Did you guys think I was happy as a Junior in high school? Did I manage to fool anyone? What about senior year?
Anyways don't worry. I had a therapist, and I told her last year, and she and my then-husband got me through it, and I made the decision to tell all my doctors to say I was allergic to any opiate or opioid on my charts. I don't want a taste. I don't want to feel that ever again because I absolutely prefer feeling like that than feeling sober. No other drugs have ever been better than reality, better than being myself. So...that's what I meant, you idiots, stop telling me to go to sleep. stop telling me to go "get help" or "get better" because that is tooooo fucking vague and as far as I know I am doing everything I should be doing. The only people that don't follow through are the people BESIDES my shrink that I ask for for help. I'm supposed to ask for help, and I do, and I have been every day for the last couple of weeks....people get more mean, people get more distant, people make me want to kill myself every time I ask for help. I want help when I'm tempted to get oxys or something like them. I want someone to BE WITH ME to tell me "No". "Don't". To slap me. Most of all I want a fucking hug. I went months without one, now it's been weeks since a real hug. 
If you tell me to go to sleep one more fucking time, I will go to sleep. 
and I won't want to wake up to face my reality after the beautiful dreams I was having. I won't have to feel the soul-crushing despair I feel when I open my eyes and look next to me. Look around the room. Remember where I am and why. I won't have to just briefly remember how my mother smelled, or how safe I felt with him sleeping beside me. I haven't felt safe since May 5. I can't get any of it back, I can't put ANY of my life back together. Seriously. Every single piece of my life was shaken up and tossed out the window. There is nothing else left to try to salvage. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. 
I failed all on my own, so now I get to deal with the consequences all on my own too.
I'm a selfish bitch. So the next time you tell me to get some sleep, I will get some sleep, I won't want to wake up, and therefore I won't.
Anything is better than this. No. I am not an immediate threat to myself or others. I am typing at a computer. So calm the fuck down and THINK before you act like deranged psychos and fuck up something else. Listen to what I'm saying.
Just. Listen.

***The words written in this shade of pink above do not accurately reflect my sentiments. I know they are ass 

No comments:

Post a Comment

I love reading your thoughts!