Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 9 of 12)

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September 13

September 13

Back to the grind. As in, work. Not Grindr.

After successfully hauling my ass out of bed and completing my standard morning routine, I made my way to The Clubhouse and punched in at 9:05 a.m. I had no idea of my schedule for this week, but was pleasantly surprised to learn that today was my one and only shift at the front desk. I would also be finished at 4 p.m. It was a miracle!

Once I spent my usual ten minutes opening up the desk, I changed into that God-awful uniform for what will hopefully be the last time. Following a standard post-coffee bathroom moment, I made a to-do list of everything I needed to get done at work – all of which were personal items. Obviously.

One by one, I began crossing items off my list. Overall, my workday was actually pretty great. Stella blew me off when I walked past her earlier this morning, so I thought I was in for yet another shift with the bitch from hell. Much to my surprise, Stella visited me at the desk later this afternoon and was quite pleasant. We talked about my trip, and that’s when I kissed some ass and thanked Stella for helping me out with everything. Not that she did much, but still. I did the same with Lawrence. As suspected, the bossman was much more receptive to my gratitude. Either way, I figured that if I want to maintain – or even form – good relationships down the road at my hellhole of a job, I might as well try and move forward in a positive way. The drama of the last three months is now behind me, so why not give it a shot? That being said, I’ll still be quitting by the end of the year. I think. I don’t know.

When it comes to the future of my work and living situations, I go through so many different emotions on any given day. I can’t make up my fucking mind. Naturally, after going to bed last night wishing I was out of the Witch Cave and either living at Casa Z or in California, I woke up loving my apartment this morning.

Actually, that’s another thing I’ve been thinking about lately. Although I have come to enjoy and appreciate Toronto more than I ever thought I would, I also remember how badly I wanted to live in LA after I returned home from California in September 2012. When did I lose sight of that? California is what I’ve always wanted – ever since I was a kid. Somewhere down the road, it’s as though I simply gave up on that dream and settled into a life here.

What does that mean for my future? Am I going to be in Toronto forever? Am I finally waking up from my complacency, and realizing that I gave up on a goal that meant so much to me? I don’t want to live in Toronto anymore. I really don’t. Even if it isn’t California, there’s so much more world out there to explore. I have so much anxiety about settling further into a life of bleakocity. That’s why I feel like I just need to jump. There’s so much more to it than just jumping, though. I don’t know what to do. I feel as though I’m putting too much pressure on myself. As per usual, I guess. Someone has to apply that pressure, though. Right?

I finished out my day at work rather successfully, without any drama or annoyances. Afterwards, I walked home, stopping by Freeman Formalwear along the way to be fitted for my suit for Kate’s wedding. While being measured, I asked the sales associate if she could give me an answer as to what a male in a bridal party is called. Am I a bridesmaid, bridesman, or groomsman? Kate refers to me as the latter, but I don’t think that’s right. Well, imagine my surprise when the woman – who was probably no older than 35 – said she had never heard of such a thing. Was this bitch for real? Does this mean I’m in for a lot of comments at Kate’s wedding? Greg said that when he was in a girlfriend’s bridal party a few years back, people kept coming up to him at the wedding and telling him how “brave” he was. Oh, fuck that. If someone says that to me at Kate’s wedding, I will roll my eyes into the next week.

I love Kate with all of my heart. Adam, too. But, so help me God, I don’t want any of this wedding tomfoolery for myself. I want Kate to be happy. Obviously. That’s a given. I am also incredibly honored that Kate chose me to be with her on her special day. However, this wedding stuff is all so extra. It’s so much, and I’m not just talking about the amount of money being spent on everything.

I love the idea of marriage. I truly want that kind of connection and commitment in my life someday. At the same time, the idea of a wedding makes me cringe. After being involved in Kate’s long road to the altar, I really don’t want to be in another wedding. Aside from Phillip’s and Natasha’s, of course.

Speaking of marriage, I recently received a save the date card in the mail from Aaron in New York City. Jesus Christ. Aaron’s wedding is next June in Vermont. Connor is invited, too. I haven’t even met Aaron’s fiancé. I know that doesn’t really matter, but this whole thing is completely outrageous. Aaron’s “why not” attitude towards his engagement leads me to believe that maybe the couple won’t even make it to June. I don’t want to be invited to any more weddings! Let me live, and let me spend my money on myself. Or at least save it. I checked my bank account(s) again today. I’m totally screwed. I’ll be declaring bankruptcy tomorrow.

My plan was to head straight to the gym after my suit fitting, but I foolishly decided to go home and nap. Two hours later, I wiggled into my smelly ass shorts and went to the gym. I did my full routine, featuring my longest run yet. I’m getting there!

While pon de gym, I was texting with Greg a lot. Our conversation was really strange. In a good way! We were reminiscing about our trip, and Greg was basically reiterating my exact sentiments from last night’s journal entry.

Greg: “I think the trip was something I really needed. I feel different. Hopeful. Happy with people. Ready for something exciting, yadda yadda. It was nice to be around people I just really enjoy and don’t have to be anything but exactly what I am (tailor jokes, pretend to care, etc.)”

Isn’t that weird? I was just saying the same thing last night. A part of me feels like the trip was the bookend on what was a really horrible time in my life. At least, that’s what I’m hoping for. Then again, I seem to always hope for the same thing despite a blatant lack of improvement. Perhaps having this undying hope isn’t such a bad thing? I don’t know. I feel as though I have more determination and drive inside of me than before, which is ironic. Don’t people usually feel the opposite way after a weekend bender in Vegas?

I like Greg. I don’t think we would be a great romantic match, but it makes me happy to know that we get along as well as we do. It’s also encouraging that he and Brittany feel so comfortable with me – to the point that they can really be themselves.

I told Greg the story about how Mom once said I have the ability to bring out the best in people. Without any hesitation, Greg agreed.

Greg: “Well, duh. That’s so obvious.”

I like that. I used to think that “genuine” was the best compliment I could get. I think this one tops it, though. Yeah, I’m genuine at times. At least, when I’m not lying through my teeth and/or stealing. However, having the ability to let others express their authentic selves and be happy with who they are is something I appreciate much more.

I’ve said this many times before, but I know all too well what it’s like to be unhappy with yourself. If I can make one person smile or feel the slightest bit better about themselves, that’s all I want. I think that’s why I want to write a book so badly. I want to make people laugh. I also want to shine a light on so many of the hardships that I think people believe they are the only ones experiencing. We all struggle in this life. However, I’m truly convinced that if we talk about those struggles openly, we can help one another.

In a random turn of events, I was texting Dylan from San Francisco earlier today. Dylan ended up calling me while I was running, so I rang him back on my way home from the gym. I had told Dylan that I haven’t been in the best – or happiest – place recently, and I think he was worried. I thought it was very sweet of him to check in on me. Dylan and I talked for quite a while. I told him about my California idea, which he obviously supported. Once I was home, Dylan texted me with some more encouragement and told me I could always talk to him if I needed to.

I am so glad that things worked out the way they did with Dylan. It just goes to show the difference between him, and someone like Logan. Logan was not a nice person. The more I think about that whole situation, the more I realize that Moira Nightingale was right all along. Logan was a fucking player. A venomous predator, and I got caught up in his web of deceit. Okay. That’s enough. I am not typing one more word about that fucking devil.

It’s 1:16 a.m. right now. I’ve gone back and forth with my “exit my lease, quit my job, and move to California” plan about 32 times today. I’m now at a point where I can’t do anything until I have more money, which is somewhat frustrating. It’s my own fault, though. If I want to be even close to affording that type of escapade, I literally have to stop all spending right now. I’m about $2,500 in debt on my credit card, and I don’t have much more than that in my bank account. With all of my recent time off, my next paycheck won’t be very big either. But, that’s all fixable. In time, I can work it all out.

I’m ready to focus. I could have gone to that gay TIFF party tonight – “STIFF” – but, I didn’t. I can’t afford the distraction. I’m not smoking weed. I’m avoiding alcohol at all costs. I’m trying really hard to watch what I eat, while ensuring that I make it to the gym every single day for as long as possible without my fucking toe falling off. The weather is also beginning to cool down. Although I am dreading fall and my inevitable seasonal depression, at least I won’t be swollen from the humidity much longer. I might even be able to wear some of my clothes without sweat-staining them as soon as I leave my apartment.

After the gym, I returned to the Witch Cave and immediately jumped into bed. I had a snack and masturbated before I started writing this journal entry. I’m ready for tomorrow.

There’s a hero

If you look inside your heart

You don’t have to be afraid

Of what you are

There’s an answer

If you reach into your soul

And the sorrow that you know

Will melt away

— Mariah Carey, “Hero”

Goodnight xo

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