Snapshot

I don’t have any one good story to tell, to elaborate on and make jokes about.  This post is just about my life, which is itself a cruel, cruel joke.

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~Last Thursday, I got a Facebook message and friend request from my sister’s ex boyfriend.  I won’t go into a ton of detail, but this guy is a paranoid, delusional psychopath.  He and my sister broke up a few years ago, and it wasn’t exactly amicably.  He and I didn’t get along and we certainly weren’t “friends.”  So why contact me now??  I ignored it.

 

Eventually though, my sister egged me on, and I messaged him back.  I assumed he needed or wanted something, so I asked.  He claimed to just be curious as to how I was doing.  More small talk was made, and eventually he ended the conversation, but not before sending me a video clip from a movie, of a guy hitting on a girl.  In the clip, the guy says, “If there’s ever anything I can do for you, or, more to the point, to you, you let me know.”   Wait, what???

 

~I went on a coffee date Saturday afternoon.  I was a little nervous, because I was afraid this was going to be another situation where he’s more interested in me than me in him.  It was fine, he’s a likable guy, but a little bland.  I don't even have any funny stories from our encounter, which is really disappointing, because that's kind of the reason I agreed to meet him.  At this point, any "dates" I agree to are solely for gathering material for this blog.

 

After, I went to Scott’s family Thanksgiving get-together.  It was nice to see his mom, sister, and nephew.  But after a few hours, I felt weird about being there, so I made some lame excuse about having to leave.  Sometimes I feel weird about doing stuff with Scott, because I’m afraid it makes me look desperate or like a loser that my ex-boyfriend is one of my only friends, and I’m afraid his family pities me because I’m a lonely, friend-less old hag.

 

~Saturday night, my sister and I decided to make a French fry run to the bar.  Seriously.  We were foolish enough to believe that we would walk in, order ONE drink, get some fries, and go home.  Fast forward 5 drinks and 2 shots later, and I somehow managed to face plant while walking to my car.  Literally, one minute I was walking and the next, my face was scraping across the parking lot.  I caught my fall with my face.  And now I look like a monster. 

 

~Sunday, I spent most of the day crying because who falls on their face?  And how can I be so stupid?  And also because my face fucking hurt.  My eye was swollen shut and there was still gravel in my cheek, but it hurt too much to properly clean it up.  I felt embarrassed that I fell again (this has been happening a lot lately), and that I actually have to go out in public the next two days (for class), and I was going to have to explain to people that I fell on my face.  Fuck me.

The face of an idiot

 

 

~The Alcoholic called me Monday night.  He wanted me to come over, and was quite persistent about it, but I told him no, because I had homework to do [also I look like a monster and desperately need a shower].  He called again at 2:00 am and for whatever reason that time I thought it was a good idea to go over there.  He was wasted, and I helped him to bed.  He kept asking what was wrong with my face, and then proceeded to lecture me about drinking.  Yep, he lectured me.

 

I had to leave early on Tuesday, but told him to get a hold of me in the evening.  I wanted to see him again when I got out of class.  He had started drinking long before then.  By 9:30, he needed me to pick him up and take him home.  On the short walk from the bar to my car, he threatened to fight a cop and tried to start shit with three old men who were minding their own business.

 

At his house, he yelled about how much he hates his life, and that he used to be a professional athlete, did I know that?? (absolutely not true), and why was my face so fucked up?   "I might be drunk, but at least I never fucked up my face!" I couldn’t handle it, so I went home.  I told him to call me tomorrow, we can talk then.  He said, "I probably won't."

 

~Today, I’m trying to be productive, but waves of depression keep rolling in with everything I do.  Depression never really goes away, you know?  It just lays dormant for a while, long enough to allow you to believe that you’re going to be OK.  I’m trying to look for jobs, update my resume, figure out my financial aid, make a grocery list, but I’m just feeling overwhelmed and incompetent and lonely and all I want to do is cry.

 

This is all just one big pointless story.  A metaphor for my life.