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

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December 13

December 13

I just spent the last four hours trying to get my new MacBook to work. Nuthin’. Damn it. Darn you, technology! Oh, well. After eight years, what’s another day?

As I lay half-asleep in bed this morning, I could hear Mom’s voice in the back of my head.

“Don’t forget to use the free breakfast coupons that came with the room!” she nagged.

Not wanting to disappoint, I showered, dressed, and took the elevator downstairs to what ended up being a pretty awesome breakfast buffet. If the potatoes are good, then so am I. In fact, I’m loving this whole “Suite Life of Kurty” thing I’ve got going on. Thanks for the hot tip, Mom.

Once at The Clubhouse, I basically performed the same routine of nothingness as yesterday. I have zero motivation. If I don’t get all of the work done that Big Bird has requested, what’s going to happen? I’m going to be forced to work next week? I’m going to be fired? Whatever. I’ve checked out. Although I’ll do whatever Big Bird asks of me, I’m not exactly in a rush to do any of it.

I spent the better part of my day spamming over 40 Facebook friends with those damn “Good Mornting” posts. The photos are so fucking funny. I can’t help but cackle at them every morning, before I sit back and watch the reactions roll in. That’s my favorite part. I also love sending the pictures to friends who have no idea what the fuck is going on. I just imagine them sitting at their computer, looking at a warped photo of Wendy Williams, and wondering what they did to deserve such a horrible image in their life. It’s so funny.

Not a single word from Colin today. I’m telling you, I know how this stuff works! It’s not just in my head. For whatever reason, Colin has lost interest. Now, we’re fizzling out. All of the bubbles are gone. Flat. Oh, well. It was good while it lasted. Well, was it? We didn’t exactly do much. I suppose I learned more than I ever needed to know about curling. Don’t you wish there was an erase button for your brain? No thanks to Colin, my precious memory has now been clogged up with useless instructions on how to push a giant rock across an ice rink. I needed that space for Mariah Carey lyrics. How fucking rude!

After a bit more work at the office, I peaced out at 4 p.m. and raced to the hotel gym. Following my usual routine, I returned to my room for a costume change before meeting the family at Wilbur Mexicana for dinner. Our evening together was really nice – and filling. Afterwards, Mom and Dad drove me to the Witch Cave so I could sell my IKEA bed frame to a girl for a $70 liquor store gift card. Hey, it’s something! I was pleased.

Back at the Hilton with my new laptop, I said goodnight to Mom while Dad waited in the car downstairs. As I closed the hotel room door, I felt a huge wave of guilt rush over me. I never do enough for my parents. Even with this whole laptop thing. As if it weren’t enough that they bought the thing for me in the first place, they even arranged a family dinner so they could deliver it to me downtown tonight. Meanwhile, I can’t even master a simple phone call home. I feel shitty.

Marinating in my guilt, I then spent those four stupid fucking hours trying to migrate data to my new MacBook. The device itself is absolutely stunning. However, it’s also just a fancy paperweight until I get my stuff onto it. Oh, well.

Tonight at dinner, Mom and Dad gave me $300 USD for my New York City trip. As if my guilt wasn’t bad enough. How do you express how uncomfortable that type of gesture makes you feel, without seeming ungrateful? I don’t want my parents to spend their money on me. Even thinking about it now, I feel guilty for accepting their gift. Although I tried to refuse the money, it was no use. Mom and Dad used their standard argument:

“We would rather give you our money before we die, so that we can be around to see you enjoy it.”

I understand the reasoning. Obviously, I’ll understand it more if/when I ever become a parent. Still, the whole thing makes me very uncomfortable.

While on the subject of children, that is something I still think about a lot. It’s not so simple when you’re gay. Basically, I have to commission someone to have my child. The more I think about all of the logistics involved, the crazier of an idea it seems. I would literally have to pay some stranger tens of thousands of dollars to have my child, only to bring it into a world where everything is basically fucking doomed. The environment is on its last leg. We’re in war, after war, after war. People are more annoying than ever. Is this a world worth bringing a child into? Or, is it an opportunity for me to bring a child into a world that they could help make a better place? This is too much for me to think about right now.

It’s 1 a.m. I’m exhausted. I did nothing tonight but plug/unplug a computer cable for four hours. Oh, well. I also masturbated while talking to a guy on Grindr who works for Four Seasons Hotels and Resorts. I guess that counts for something. Although, given recent events with Colin, “something” tends to turn into “nothing” pretty quickly these days.

Over the coming weeks and months, I will be ready to block a lot of things out of my life. Visiting the empty Witch Cave tonight wasn’t the least bit nostalgic. Goodbye.

Goodnight xo

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