Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 7 of 12)

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July 8

July 8

This morning was the same struggle as yesterday. An hour and a half of pressing the snooze button, only to jump out of bed, throw my head under the bathtub faucet, and run out the door.

Work was terrible, as usual. Another day manning the front desk, not having it with anyone I encountered throughout the day. On a positive note, I have become much more familiar with everything that goes on inside The Clubhouse. As a result, I’m able to answer questions and requests from behind the front desk with more independence. That confidence means I’m not forced to interact with my co-workers as often, which is something I’m quite thankful for.

The five-o’clock hour was hell. It was Friday, so members drank for free at the club’s weekly After Hours event. Usually, I am the one doing the drinking. Not this week, as I was chained to the front desk. Fuckers. At least I wasn’t working until 3 a.m. tonight, as I was originally scheduled. By the way, that will never happen. God help me find a new job before I am voluntold to spend a Friday night at The Clubhouse’s front desk.

I fooled around a lot on the internet today. No more Twitter porn, but some online shopping, chatting with friends, and lots of social media. Really productive stuff. I did some personal writing as well, but it was hard to get into a creative groove when the phone was ringing every three minutes. How rude!

I couldn’t stop thinking about PW today. I’m becoming obsessed with him. The infatuation has to stop. I sent PW a thank-you message before bed last night, and I woke up to his response this morning, which put a smile on my face. I also love the fact that his name is Phillip. It makes me feel like a Disney Princess. I know, it’s gay as all hell. But, I like it.

I have to see PW again. We were messaging with one another this afternoon, and I asked him when that might be. PW said that he was busy this weekend, but that sometime next week would be good. I suggested we aim for Tuesday night, and to let me know if his weekend plans changed. Yeah. I’m that desperate.

It sucked when PW said he was booked this weekend. I really want to see him again. PW is literally all I think about. However, as I am typing this right now, I’m realizing that it’s fucking Friday. The weekend is two days long. It’s not exactly like I’m waiting an eternity. I just want to see him again! I want to learn more about PW. I want to talk to PW. I want to make out with PW. I want to be in a relationship with PW.

Oh, my God. I am a fucking lunatic! This is crazy! This is my exact problem. I come on too strong, because I want the end result right away. When guys do that to me, it’s so unappealing. I really need to cool it.

Okay. Let’s let PW make the next move. We’re staying quiet. Not a word, Kurt! We’ve already said too much as it is. We should have said we were busy this weekend, too. You know, to make us seem more in demand. Drive up our stock market value, etc.

Back to reality, I took a long walk home from work at 6 p.m. I stopped by the mall to scam some samples from Sephora in an attempt to fix whatever the fuck is happening on my face, picked up some candy – a.k.a. the reason for whatever the fuck is happening on my face – then settled in at the Witch Cave and watched TV.

I feel lonely. I think that’s why I’m latching onto PW the way I am. I need to fulfill that loneliness with something other than a guy, though. I know I do. I just enjoy the idea of being with someone I like.

Dan wanted to do something quiet together tonight, like watch a movie or listen to Mariah Carey B-sides. The thing is, our gatherings so often involve weed and/or alcohol that I was hesitant to commit to any plans. I really wanted to get some work done this weekend. Things like writing, and applying to some new job postings so that I can move far, far away from The Clubhouse. I felt the best way of doing all of the above would be to get out of the city. I took the subway up to Fairview Mall, Mom picked me up at the station, and we drove to Casa Z together.

Deep in a daze, I listened to Mariah Carey’s Butterfly album the whole way to Fairview Mall. Along my journey, I remembered why I fell in love with every song, and how many different experiences I’ve applied Mariah’s lyrics to. The phrase, “sleepless solitude,” from “My All” is something that has always stuck with me. All of the lyrics to “The Roof,” “Close My Eyes,” “Butterfly,” and “Breakdown,” too.

Ugh. Every word of that album is genius. I don’t even like to share it with anyone anymore. It’s so special to me. The events of my life that the Butterfly tracks are attached to are so personal. I don’t want anyone knowing what I think about when I listen to the album.

Breaking up with RX.

Wishing we would get back together.

Wanting to grow into my own.

My encounters with Logan.

Kissing on the roof.

Personal insecurities.

Feeling like an outsider.

Wanting to fly away.

I’m thinking of you

In my sleepless solitude tonight

If it’s wrong to love you

Then my heart just won’t let me be right

— Mariah Carey, “My All”

I don’t think anyone will ever truly understand why I love Butterfly so much. To them, it’s just another album by some diva they don’t care for. In all honesty, that makes it even more special to me. I don’t think anyone will ever truly understand me, either. But, that makes me sad.

I felt pretty low today. I tried on an old t-shirt tonight as I was getting ready to head to Casa Z, and it was so tight. I’ve gained a lot of weight recently. I feel disgusting. I just can’t stop eating. It’s absolutely a coping mechanism. Food is my way of dealing with the stress and anxiety I have been experiencing lately. I know this, because when I am feeling really uplifted – that Cloud 9 level of happiness – I don’t have much of a desire to eat. Everything just falls into place when I’m happy. Life becomes a positive chain reaction.

How do I summon that positivity on my down days, though? How do I recognize that I cannot fill an emotional void or deficit by eating eight flour tortillas in one sitting? No amount of cheesy potatoes is going to make me happy. That’s where the negative chain reaction happens. The emotional void cues the eating, which sets off more emotions. The emotions make me want to eat more, and then I freak out when I look in the mirror with my shirt off and realize what I have done. My face breaks out, and I panic. I eat more, and the cycle continues until something sparks a positive emotion inside of me – i.e., meeting PW. I crave that kind of serotonin boost, because it makes the other issues disappear. But, what happens when the person goes away?

Goddamn it. I’m realizing again that this is what happened with Logan. I was my best self when I was with Logan. When I wasn’t with him, I freaked out. Logan saw that side of me, and ran away in the other direction. I was a Stage 10 clinger. Nobody wants that! I sure as hell wouldn’t. I need to fucking get it together. Find happiness within myself, so that I am not depending on someone else to facilitate it.

This entire year, I have been working my way through an endless chain of rebounds. Picking up a new romance, just as the last one fizzles out because I lost interest. I don’t want that to be the case with PW. It also can’t be, because of PW’s relationship with my brother. I hope that doesn’t scare him away. I hope I don’t. We’ll find out. It’s 12:30 a.m., and I haven’t heard from PW. Again, we need to keep our gap shut – and our mouth, too. Be a good boy, Kurt.

I’m hoping that this weekend at Casa Z will be rejuvenating. A part of my visit home was the desire for some animal therapy as well. I just want to lie in my room with Tabitha. Through her silence, my little baby has a special way of making everything better when it feels like the world is yelling at me from every corner.

I watched a couple episodes of Netflix’s Wet Hot American Summer with Mom. After she went to bed, I watched a few more episodes while chowing down on an abusively large bowl of chips, which was prefaced by an aggressive amount of chocolate covered cookies. Stupid.

I’m in my room now. Washed up, and ready for bed. I hope I wake up skinny.

Tender kisses and I’m floating on air

You can have me anytime, anywhere

When you need me I will always be there

I found love

— Mariah Carey, “Joy Ride”

Goodnight xo

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