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Friday, May 20, 2011
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This week from hell:
My brand new birthday cartilage piercing got infected. Tori's dad, a doctor, had to tool it out. It's all healed, but I drove up to her house in a delirious haze of sleeplessness, spending my night in a backseat up at 11th ave while the earring was slowly and painfully engulfed.
My grades are fucked. Today, I went in to negotiate with the teacher I thought would be most agreeable, and she was pissed. So pissed. The unreasonable teacher was, converseley, very reasonable.
I got caught sneaking out last night.
On Wednesday morning, I got a ticket for "running a stop sign". Ninety fucking dollars. I can pay it, but....
Haven't told my parents yet.
So emotionally exhausted. I'm a sliver away from breaking down in tears.
This would have been a night I would have inevitably otherwise have spent sneaking out, partying my ass off, and then with Gordon.
I feel so thrown off, so left out.
I don't even want to know anymore. I want to cry, have a nice, numbing drink, and then figure out a way to fix everything.
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Tuesday, May 10, 2011
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T - I can't be your boyfriend, or your only emotional support.
I will, however, do everything I can.
G - you're stunning. your rich clean boy smell is intoxicating. your waffles were yummy.
T - I respect your people skills
I don't want everyone's personal sadness to get contagious or something. In part, I'm tired of mopping people up and I'm pissed off that he tells me what I want to hear more than shocking me out of unnecessary emotional extremes by putting me back in my place.
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