I have words and feelings that are bursting to be let out.
So I’m letting them out. Maybe.
It’s Saturday night. My roommates are all off doing their own things. I worked until ten. I was going to try and hang out with The Fixer (God that is an awful code name. Why didn’t Chris and I get more creative on that one?), but he hasn’t been responding lately. Because apparently he’s a dick. But our lack of relationship status makes it uncool of me to be angry. Or something. We haven’t seen each other in like a month outside of work, and we text maybe once or twice a week. Usually about work. I should not be talking about this on here. Even with the code name and the extra precaution of un-checking the “send to Facebook” button, it’s pretty clear who I’m talking about, I think.
Anyway, everyone on the internet went to bed or is out having lives. And so I’m home. Alone. As usual. Not even That 70’s Show is helping with the sudden downturn of my mood.
I don’t know why I’m suddenly so upset. This isn’t anything new. I’ve always been the one home alone on the internet. Usually I revel in it.
Usually, I’m so exhausted from the combination of work and school that it doesn’t even matter.
But tonight, it’s warm out. Tonight, I don’t have schoolwork. Tonight, I don’t have to go to bed because of a shitty early morning shift. Tonight could have worked out.
And yet, here I am, home alone.
Have I mentioned that I’m sober? I’m sober and I just got off working 6 days straight. I’m sober and I have a bottle of wine in the fridge (that I was going to share with the Fixer. Whatever). People keep thinking that I’m an alcoholic or something. I’m not. I don’t drink every day. I don’t even drink every week. I don’t even want to be drunk right now (although I feel like I should want to, the amount I’ve been at work this week). I really just want company.
I guess “company” is the wrong word. Because if I wanted company, I would have got off my ass and gone over to Rach’s or something (she wouldn’t come pick me up cause she is always afraid of losing her parking spot). But I don’t know what other word to use. I want…I guess what I want is male company. That I can have sex with. But also that I can just be around and hang out with. Which is why I wanted to see the Fixer, I guess, cause he’s…well, he’s that for me. Or was.
Stop it, Brit, no one cares about your fake-relationship problems. Your fuck buddy problems. Your notevensureifyou’reactuallyfriends-with-benefits problems.
No one even cares that you’re so emotionally fucked up when it comes to dudes and sex and friendship and TALKING and EXPRESSING THOUGHTS AND EMOTIONS that you just let this shit happen.
That’s a lie. People care. Too bad you can’t get these things out unless you’re in front of a computer or typing into a phone. Otherwise the words just mix up in your head and come out wrong or go through too many processes to come out at all.
I’m at that place again, that one where I just want to say fuck it and move back to Denver and crawl into my bed and let my parents take care of me forever. I hate that place. I know I can do this. I know I can be that person who has it together—job, school, social life. I know it’s possible. It’s just so hard for me sometimes and then when I actually feel like I can do it, I can’t because of things like this where no one’s around.
Jeselyn’s told me that this kind of mixed up fucked up unsure feeling is something that happens when you graduate and lose the school structure. Or something. I think I’m just holding in too many emotions and they all boil up at once. I haven’t cried in awhile.
Too bad I thought that was a good thing. I thought that meant I was doing ok. I thought that meant I was stable.
I don’t even fucking know what I think anymore. I was originally going to talk about the shit going on downtown, even though I almost never get political; the NATO and the protests and how everyone (hotels, police, various nations) is being extra cautious, and sometimes it seems like they’re being overly cautious, and then I look in blogs and on tumblr and stuff and they’re like “fuck the police” and saying how people were getting beat up and stuff, even though i’m not actually sure how much of that was true because i was like a fucking block away from the protests for awhile and, yeah there were a lot of cops around, and yeah it does kinda look like a police state down there, but it looked pretty peaceful to me. a lot of the reason there is such a huge police presence downtown is because protesters have, in the past, gotten violent. I’m not saying anyone is right or wrong, because I know there are police who get antsy and jump the gun or whatever. It’s not all black and white, and everyone seems to think it is. Nothing is ever black and white. Everything is gray.
Which is probably why I can’t ever make a decision on anything—because I see everything as gray, as having good and bad outcomes, and usually get to a point where the good and the bad are balanced out and I can’t even fucking see a way to go. I always see a lot of points of view.
God. I am rambling. Again. I feel like the only time I put up actual writing on this thing is when I’m in the middle of some emotional breakdown. I hate that I do that. I hate that I haven’t done actual writing since school let out, even though I have a decent story that could turn into a book, and another story that is probably good enough to send out and I just don’t let myself cause I tell myself it’s not good and it’s not finished and it’s cliche and…everything. Just everything. This is always my problem.
You know what else is a problem? How I’m always like “BLAAAAH I HATE MY JOB” but I never, you know…do anything about it. Why can’t I just sit down and apply to a bunch of jobs? People are hiring. I have skills that extend beyond the front desk. I have skills that would be better put to use away from the front desk. I hate the front desk. I’m tired of getting bitched at because the shuttle is suspended cause the fucking government decided to shut down the roads. I’m tired of getting bitched at because we’re so understaffed that sometimes there’s no one to be lifeguard at the pool. I’m tired of being bitched at because housekeeping didn’t leave enough towels or because parking is $41 a night or because you’re an idiot and used your debit card to check into a hotel and didn’t think we might charge it. I’m tired of everyone having to work 6 days a week because no one hired anyone new in time.
So why don’t I quit? Why don’t I just leave? Why don’t I start applying to jobs and going on interviews and working towards my goal of being OUT of that place by September 1?
I don’t know. If anyone has an answer for me, I’d love to hear it. Cause right now, I probably could be looking for a job instead of whining about loneliness and crying about how my fuck buddy doesn’t respond to my texts and being stressed out about everything in the world.
Maybe I’m just really bad at change? The day before I moved here, I got so sick from nerves that I threw up and cancelled lunch plans with my aunt and cousin. And that was a GOOD change. Changing jobs could be a good change. Or I could end up in a somehow even worse job. WHAT IF THAT HAPPENS, WHAT DO I DO THEN?
I hate feelings. They always hide and then all come out at once. Why can’t I be a normal person who expresses their feelings when they have them? WHY?
Ugh. I guess I’ll go to bed. Cause clearly, this isn’t getting me anywhere.
I hate being in such a bad mood. I was in such a nice one when I got home.