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

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September 21

September 21

Instead of remembering the 21st night of September, I would really just like to forget it. Can we move on? Wrap it up, please. Let’s go.

Today was bleak. I’m sitting here naked in bed, full of grilled cheese and a sweet potato. I’m fucking over it. Despite eating healthy and working out every day, I haven’t lost even half a pound. Work was also dull as all hell. Of course, that’s not exactly breaking news.

I’m tired. Why am I going to bed at 10:30 p.m. each night, and still feeling like I’m going to pass out from exhaustion by 11 a.m.? As much as I want to slap Konrad in the face for his unsolicited career advice last night, I will give credit where it’s due. Konrad was right when he said, “When you find something you love, it won’t feel like you’re working twice as many hours a week as you are.” Well, the countdown is on. Let’s collect those coins and move the fuck on.

Today was pretty much business as usual. I got up, schlepped to The Clubhouse, worked 9 a.m. to 4:30 p.m., and left. It was a boring day, but still another successful scam for the books. I dicked around on the internet for more than half the day. I also ended up talking to Adam Daniels on Facebook Messenger for a good chunk of the afternoon. We chatted about our usual items – Britney, Mariah, etc. – but mostly about our summers. It seems Adam and I had similar experiences and are now in the same place of, “What am I going to do with my life?”

Not that I’m an expert on the subject, but I always feel like I give fairly good advice on these things. Despite the fact that I can’t seem to figure out my own shit, of course. I’d like to see Adam again. Partly because I want a friend, but also because I love having sex with him. Adam is so great in bed. I want him inside of me like I want my caffeine pills in the morning. The thirst is real, squirrel friends. From now on, I think I’ll be spending more time at Casa Z during the weekends. Maybe I can arrange a little playdate while I’m in town. As much as I need a penetration moment, I have a feeling Adam might as well. If anything’s been proven since we met, it’s that we can successfully balance our friendship and sexual stuff quite well. That’s pretty rare, I think.

Great. Now, I’m fucking horny.

Not much else happened at work today. After hightailing it out of the office at 4:30 p.m., I did my thing at the gym and powered through a run with a very painful toe. This toe surgery business has ruined my fucking life. I’ll say one thing: it does look better. That’s about it, though. Everything else from this surgery experience has been completely negative. The excessive weight gain, the trouble getting back into exercise and running, the increased drinking that happened throughout the summer and led to a plethora of bad decisions, scars, and permanent bodily harm, and obviously just the daily pain of it all. My toe and foot still hurt every day. One of the worst parts about all of this is that eventually I’ll need the same surgery on my left foot. But, that might have to wait a while. I don’t know if I’m ready for another summer of recovery. The last four months have been hell, and I’m glad to be coming out of that bleakocity. Finally.

After decompressing in the gym sauna, I jumped on the subway and hobbled home to the Witch Cave. In an attempt to cease any further carpet beetle development – I’ve found two since the weekend – I vacuumed the entire apartment while dinner was cooking. Following my cleaning binge, I then gorged on carbs, carbs, and more carbs. I feel really fucking chunky right now.

I’m ready for bed. Like I said, I’m just fucking over it.

I continue to catch myself clenching my teeth as I write this. I have also been experiencing bad headaches on the daily. They aren’t constant. More like sharp pains that come and go. Still, it worries me.

I keep chickening out to call Uncle Jack. I really need to bite the bullet. The sooner I sort things out with The Plan, the sooner I can begin putting things into action.

I feel like I’m going to barf. I’m going to rub one out and go to bed, only to be even more lethargic tomorrow. Given the world’s problems, I realize that my slight exhaustion is hardly something to complain about. Nonetheless, woe is me.

Goodnight xo

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