Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 6 of 12)

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Hi, I’m Kurt. A binge-drinking, pill-popping disco diva with a heart of platinum and an appetite for self-destruction. Welcome to Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax’d Millennial. Adapted from a collection of nightly journal entries, Sleepless Solitude details the promiscuous highs and drug-induced lows of a gay millennial in his mid-twenties as he tries to find his way through the swamp of young adulthood. Covering an entire year, the blog posts serve as a chronological, behind-the-scenes look at what happens when the party stops and the Hangover Blues kick in. At its core, Sleepless Solitude is an effort in sharing personal truths. By revealing intimate thoughts and vulnerabilities with each journal entry, the aim is to present a mind and story void of social media filters. Life isn’t always a celebration, it’s not always sunny, and sometimes you blackout and break a few teeth. The best I can do right now is try and pick up the pieces. Goodnight xo

Age Rating:

June 1

June 1

Woke up feeling well-rested, which was a nice change of pace. I could have done without the 8 a.m. messages from Bryan, though. That’s another discussion for another entry.

My foot is still hurting. It’s now clear that yesterday’s walk to the park was a very bad idea. I’m just hoping that I didn’t do anything to really fuck up my toe, especially because I won’t be seeing Dr. Europia for another week. Damn it.

I padded my wake-up call with a lot of extra time, so this morning was pretty relaxed. Some breakfast, a shower, apartment cleaning, outfit picking, and then I hobbled my way to The Clubhouse via the subway and streetcar. I arrived with 15-minutes to spare. Not bad!

I have mixed feelings on my first day at The Clubhouse. That being said, I also don’t want to jump on the Negative Express right away. Overall, the experience was fairly positive. I think my mixed feelings stem mainly from the mentality of, “What’s the point of this?” I can already tell that the work I’ll be doing in my role isn’t going to make me happy. I won’t feel as though I’m making a difference. But, that’s okay. For now.

A couple of weeks ago, I read an article that talked about millennials being unhappy with their work. Their reasoning? “We don’t feel like we’re making a difference.” I’m paraphrasing here, but the article ended on a note along the lines of:

“While that may be the case, the term ‘day job’ was created for a reason. To combat those feelings, you must occupy your life with other things outside of work that will fulfill you and bring you happiness.”

My job at The Clubhouse is pretty cool. The people are nice, too. One of the younger girls even approached me about assisting with a nineties-themed Pride event that will be happening in two weeks. The girl’s name is Lucy, and she’s letting me have creative input on the event, invite 50 guests, and might even hire Phillip to DJ. That’s pretty fucking awesome for a first day!

I’m going to make the best of this new job. The Clubhouse is a step in the right direction. I had so much information thrown at me today, and we barely scratched the surface of what I’ll be doing. I’m also making it my mission to remain as neutral as possible when it comes to office politics, which I can already tell there are a lot of. I don’t want any part of that drama. For once, I actually want to keep my personal life personal. The less I have to explain about the imaginary brothers and sisters I told Robyn about, the better.

I left The Clubhouse at 6 p.m. From there, I limped to the Witch Cave like I’d never limped before. Seriously, it was bad.

I was too lazy to make dinner tonight. I spent my evening watching TV, and then worked on a celebrity party game for Kate’s upcoming bridal shower. I found a shortcut to get things done in record time. Thank God. I didn’t have four hours to spend magnetic lassoing Matt LeBlanc’s face in Photoshop. I sent Kate the game, and she seemed pretty happy with it. After that, I felt guilty about not having left my bed since I got home. I did 700 sit-ups, 100 pushups, stretched, and then crawled into bed.

I’m feeling better. Today’s social interaction at The Clubhouse was great. I actually want to be a bit more social now. Some of my friends even invited me to do things with them this week. My foot hurts so much, though. I’m not sure what I’ll be able to handle. Goddamn this piggly wiggly toe!

My day was filled with the standard obsessive/depressive thoughts about Logan and RX. That being said, I’m getting better at practicing the “N.A.P.” method that Moira Nightingale taught me. Now, I can Notice, Accept, and Proceed faster than ever before.

I feel used. Not all the time, but there are certainly moments where I feel my heart has been taken advantage of. I feel a lot of shitty emotions, actually. Used, under-appreciated, abandoned, etc.

It’s so stupid, though. Those emotions are so hypocritical of me. I think about the way Logan treated me. How awful he made me feel. Yet, I know that I’ve done the same – and am doing the same – to other guys as well.

But, maybe not to the same degree?

That’s subjective, though.

Obviously, the situation is always going to seem worse to the person who’s being fucked over. That’s because the person doing the fucking over probably doesn’t realize what they’re doing in the first place. Even if the fucker-over does become aware of their actions, they’ll find reasoning to justify it all.

I am both sides. I don’t want to be either of them.

Congratulations on your first day at The Clubhouse. Now, start planning your next move. And transcribe your fucking journal, you lazy bitch.

Goodnight xo

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