the surliest girl
lafto feels like a memorial site now. rip jared. much love from milwaukee. i’ll miss you.

lafto feels like a memorial site now. rip jared. much love from milwaukee. i’ll miss you.

at least i didn’t find out through latfo.

another friend of mine took their last breathe in new orleans recently.

his knuckles read: GAME OVER

but i always hoped he’d stay alive.

good-bye & godspeed, dear jared. i hope you are at peace.

sure do wish i had a partner who’d actively support my NEED to cut back on drinking.

i miss sobriety. mine, mainly. but also being partnered with a sober person.

i’m actually lonely for isaac.

living is hard.

someday i’ll be happy. or at the very least less miserable. it’s my choice. i’m in the driver’s seat.

i’m a driver, i’m a winner. things are gonna change. I CAN FEEL IT.

fuck.

i’m drunk. so drunk i just threw up. bright red blood. into the toilet.

i hate everything.

am i sexy yet?

am i sexy yet?

and i see his sword is as nerdy as mine!

and i see his sword is as nerdy as mine!

germs burn.

germs burn.

drunk, listening to big freedia. work’s gon’ SUCK tomorrow. i got that cider in my system!

drunk, listening to big freedia. work’s gon’ SUCK tomorrow. i got that cider in my system!

dinner: grilled ginger sesame tuna steaks, salad with miso ginger dressing, & bread… harrity.

dinner: grilled ginger sesame tuna steaks, salad with miso ginger dressing, & bread… harrity.

it’s okay, guys. it’s just gua sha.

it’s okay, guys. it’s just gua sha.

i can’t sleep so i’m taking a bath. my tummy feels funny. i’m feeling better, physically & mentally, but my mind is all over the place.

running into kriztoff tonight brought back so many pushed down, hidden away memories.

i still feel like i’m twenty-two. i always feel that way but i felt it so much harder tonight.

oh! you traveler boys with beer-wet lips, snaggled smiles. smelling like sweat & dirt & magic.

i can’t even begin to tell you how much of THIS i miss.

ten years. ten years. and we’ve both changed. 

so many hugs and few words exchanged. 

you recognized me. it took me a minute. oh yeah, you. oh you! holy shit! hello YOU.

you asked me what i’ve been up to. said you’d seen me around. i answered in brief syllables, between hugs. your arms around me and your face nuzzling my neck, blanketed by my new length of hair.

i didn’t tell you about my boyfriend.

we had a smoke. you asked for my number. but didn’t give me yours. you just kept hugging me. smiling. looking at me with your squinty pisces eyes.

when you said goodbye you promised me a drunk-dial or two. but you don’t drink much anymore so that call will come when i least expect it.

i don’t expect it.

you hugged me close, you smelled my hair.

"you smell like coconuts. you smell delicious."  

i said goodbye, you said goodbye. you grabbed my hand but missed. i reached back, laughed but was in the door. you were sidewalk bound.

i went inside, you down the block.

i wanted to kiss your scruffy face. in the alley. on that park bench. i wanted you to take me, really TAKE me, on the dumpster. like we were both crusty twenty-somethings again. drunk. cigarette smoke soaked. if my friends weren’t with me, i’d have invited you home.

well, probably not.

still…

i never did told you about my boyfriend. 

the ambitions are wake up, breathe, keep breathing… the ambitions are wake up, breathe, keep breathing…

my body is failing me. my brain, too. i don’t know what to do anymore. my job hangs in the balance, as does my life. my whole goddamn life. this is scary. this is no joke. my body and my mind, ever my enemies.

i regret that tubal ligation so much. since mid-february i’ve been in non-stop hormonal hell. i am almost unable to KEEP IT TOGETHER. it’s like i have constant PMS turned up to 11. ALL THE TIME. never ever ending.

these hormones go to eleven…

my physical health is fucked up, too. fubar, mang. fubar. my abdomen is in a perpetual state of BLOAT. & if it wasn’t for the tubal ligation i’d think i was pregnant cos my tits are so swollen and hurt so bad. i’m having a fibromyalgia flare-up that’s in all the tender spots but my elbows and hips are especially affected. it’s all i can do to walk up a flight of stairs or carry a bag of groceries (doing both at once destroys me for the rest of the day.) i’ve had persistent low-grade headache for the last week and a half.

i was out for a week on medical leave and it looks like another FMLA leave is in my near future. if i don’t just lose my job… or quit. but i can’t quit and i’m terrified i’ll get fired. it doesn’t help that ed’s expressing his anxiety about us not having enough money to pay the rent and bills by saying shit like:

you didn’t go to work AGAIN. your job probably thinks you’re unreliable.

if you get fired cos you didn’t go in today, how are we going to afford rent and bills!?!?! i’m NOT carrying a girlfriend again! and i’m NOT ever going to live paycheck-to-paycheck again!

you need to get your shit in order, emily, or they’re going to can your ass!

hearing things like that on a regular basis makes my anxiety unbearable. also, those statements make me feel unsupported and not cared for. it sucks. plus, my brain tells me all these things, too. i don’t need another person to say them, i hear them ALL THE TIME anyways.

at least i’m seeing my doctor tomorrow. my gynecologist, who i like and respect. my psychiatrist has also been very available & helpful. tho he did add a new diagnosis to my humdinger of “bipolar with borderline features/ptsd/generalized anxiety” NOW FEATURING PMDD (premenstrual dysphoric disorder)… so i’m just one big ball of crazy.

more meds. more holistic approaches. more therapy. but also, MORE UNCERTAINTY. i’ve always had the most sensitive brain & body on the block but this is just too much. i want to run away and hide. i want to walk in front of a bus.

right now my only ambitions are: wake up. breathe. keep breathing.

"spaghetti and meatballs." - james quall

"spaghetti and meatballs." - james quall