Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 2 of 12)

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February 29

February 29

The last day of yet another awful month.

February started out on such a good note. Then, week by week, it just continued to fall apart. This month might have been even worse than January.

I didn’t want to get out of bed this morning. I’m still upset about Logan. It’s done. I’m jumping ahead in this journal’s narrative, but I didn’t have any communication with him today. It sucks.

It sucks to have wanted someone so bad. It sucks to have these strong, indescribable, ridiculous, over-the-top feelings, and think that they were reciprocated, only to find out that Logan doesn’t care. I should have known. That’s a big part of this, too. My naivety.

I feel like such a fucking loser. What Logan gave me was an incredible sense of confidence and happiness. Now that he’s out of the equation, I feel like I’m standing here with even less of that stuff than I had before I met him. Which isn’t saying much, because I felt like a fucking loser back then, too.

I’m a loser because I continued to developed feelings for someone after they gave me a STD. I’m a loser because I continued to develop feelings for someone after they outright said that they didn’t want a relationship with me. Well, I want one. I want a fucking relationship with you! So, this whole “situationship” between us simply isn’t going to work out. “Going to.” Ha! That’s laughable. As if it hasn’t failed already. Get a grip, Kurt. You got fucking played. I feel so – low.

Fortunately, this morning was actually fairly decent. I had a really good session in the gym and felt pretty upbeat for a while. I’m still taking my Xanax on a regular basis, but I find it’s been making me a bit irritable. Most noticeably, I’m more of an ass to my parents than usual. Of course, that behavior then causes me to be upset with myself.

I’m very short with my parents. I want my space and independence, but Mom always wants to get me something. Or, say hello as soon as I walk in the door. Or, hug me when I enter the kitchen. Or, ask me what I’ve eaten for breakfast. It’s too much. It’s loving, and incredibly well-intentioned, but it’s too much for me. I feel like an asshole for pushing away the affection I so badly seem to crave, but I can’t handle that much energy right now.

As scared as I am to be alone at my apartment, I think moving back to the Witch Cave is going to be for the best. I don’t want to ruin my relationship with my parents by spending too much time here at Casa Z. My recent behavior is reminding me of how things used to be when I lived here permanently. I don’t want to reach that point of contention again. I’ll go back to my place this week. I just have to start getting used to the idea of being alone again.

My post-workout endorphins faded fairly quickly, leaving me to stress eat for the better part of the evening. The reasoning? All of the above. Everything in my life seems to be such a vicious cycle. Eating junk food makes me feel like shit. Then, when I’m upset about my body and feel low, that depression leads me on a straight path towards the pantry where I waste no time in opening up a new bag of chips. Blah, blah, blah. Tale as old as fucking time. However, there is a glimmer of hope amidst this self-inflicted despair.

Recently, I’ve been casually chatting with this guy named Bryan through Instagram. About two weeks ago, he had liked some of my videos, which then led to us direct messaging one another through the app to talk about things like Mariah Carey, Britney Spears, and Disney Princesses. It was innocent at first, but there’s definitely been some friendly flirting involved. After some more messaging today, Bryan and I have now decided to meet up and have a date on Saturday. So, that’s exciting, right? Yeah? Ugh. I want it to be!

My head is everywhere these days. I watched a fucking 2002 Larry King Live Mariah Carey interview tonight and started to cry when they talked about New York City. I don’t even want to go back to New York City now. It’s all associated with him. It hurts. I try to be strong. I have moments where I think I’m really okay. But, then there are other moments when I think about Logan and my heart sinks. I have to keep reminding myself: “You don’t want to be with someone like Logan. You want to be with someone who will want to message you all day. Your love should be reciprocated.”

What’s most annoying in all of this radio silence with Logan is that he’s constantly on his phone. I can see it through different social media apps. I caved and watched one of his stupid, motherfucking Snapchat stories today. I wish I didn’t. Why? Because there he was. Full profile, taking up every inch of my phone’s screen. Note to self: do not do that again. I don’t want to give Logan the satisfaction of that “view.” Never has this been truer: “I DON’T WANNA SEE THAT!”

Snapchat is not a proper form of communication. Why do people think that a view on their post is the same thing as having a conversation with someone? In these people’s minds, it’s as though they’ve communicated with me when I watch their Snapchats. As if I now know something about their day because I watched their motherfucking, piece of shit “Story.” No. That’s not how it works!

Fuck Snapchat.

Fuck 2016.

Fuck social media.

Fuck EVERYTHING!

FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK YOU!

Punching those words into my keyboard is almost as satisfying as it is when I’m screaming them at the top of my lungs while driving 160 km/h down the highway.

Anyway, I worked on my application for the Toronto Film Group events position before bed, but it was so late I could barely read. I’ll send it in tomorrow when I wake up. I’ve gotta get a job. Not that I haven’t needed one all this time, but I’m ready for it. I’m also ready for another new month. Moving on. Fresh start. Here we go!

So when you feel like hope is gone

Look inside you and be strong

And you’ll finally see the truth

That a hero lies in you

— Mariah Carey, “Hero”

Goodnight xo

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