Dissolved Girl

What's Done is Done

Saturday, October 17, 2009

I guess things should be looking up. I'm working toward posting more on here since I don't have any stories for my other blog now, considering I'm a wage slave now instead of a waitress. I'm into a new, beautiful little apartment, which I will have pictures of (soon!) and working a steady job where I don't have to rely on peoples' whims to make a living.

The Boy is gone. He trashed my living room one afternoon while I was at work, so I raced home, taking almost 2 hours off of work, which I wasn't getting paid for since I don't have PTO time yet, only to find he locked me out of my own house. I crawled in through a window and finally called the police to get his ass out. He hasn't been back yet, and I've been double locking my apartment because I'm so paranoid he'll come back. Gods know he doesn't need to, as he has all of his important shit, but that's how I think. He still has a bunch of crap in my hallway, and my landlord commented about it still being there, so I'm giving him one more day and then I'm taking what I might want and the rest goes to Goodwill. I've spent enough time living on his terms and being cowed by his issues; Monday morning this shit is gone. I want as few reminders of him as I can possibly get.

Of course my ED-NOS is madly out of control. I got high last night and ate more than I think I ever have at a single point in my life, and I'm still eating now. Seriously, what the fuck is WRONG with me? I need to talk to somebody about this. I need to stop eating and it's like I fucking can't. I don't know what the hell is going on.

Why can't I go back to the way I was in college? That was GOOD: coffee for breakfast, iced tea for lunch, soda and a water for dinner. I need to go back to that. It's not as though I can't afford it, really. I think next paycheck I'll splurge on one of those Keurig coffee things or the equivalent...that way I can do coffee for breakfast again. We'll see.

Clearly Fucked Over

Thursday, September 03, 2009

Well. Brilliant idea, of course. I think I've screwed up my stomach pretty badly; it's messing with my sleep now. I wake up every few hours with a vicious stomach ache and it's getting really old. I've been told that in a few weeks it will go away, and I can only hope that's true.

Planning on moving soon but I'll have to overdraft my account to do it, and possibly borrow some money from The Boy. I've been told he owes me but I hate asking people for money. I really just have to smarten up, man up, and make him do what he should be doing. He just got paid yesterday so I know he can front a little bit. Also working two jobs now, though the restaurant has severely cut my hours. I went in for about 5 hours today and walked out with $35, which is completely ridiculous. I don't like working for less than minimum wage.

My mind is completely in turmoil about The Boy, too. I'm remembering how he was with Feather, and just realizing that he's totally NOT that way with me, and it hurts really badly. I want to have that with him like you wouldn't believe. It's really making me doubt myself and my body, thinking I'm just not good enough for him. Maybe I'm not.

I don't know anymore, I don't know if he's the one who drove me into a depressive OD episode or not. Some of the things he does hurts so much. I just wish I could shut off my stupid head and be friends with him.

Nineteen

Saturday, August 29, 2009

I guess it's kind of fitting, really, one number short of something whole, 6 numbers short of something perfectly even and satisfying. 6, a number of imperfection in itself. Tonight it was nineteen naproxyn, last time it was nineteen lamictal. I don't have much soda left, or I would take nineteen of something else, but I think that might be an excuse.

Give me a few hours and we'll see.