More Hateful Memoirs
[ mood | 
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[ music | Carl Orff - O Fortuna ]
I hate myself. I went to the party, and it felt good to celebrate the 21 years of someone else's life. But I fucked up. Champagne and wine were bad choices, so to prevent myself spending the night throwing up in the bathroom, I made myself at home at the bar. The barmaid and I know one another from the bank I used to work in, because she did the catering there, and it was nice to talk to someone I actually knew. I was going to order a single vodka, straight up. That's how I like it. But the chef walks in and tells me about his second and third personalities, and how a shot of tequila without the lime and salt, brings them out. So I go for tequila, followed by a triple vodka straight up. And guys can see a drunk girl coming from a mile off...
Enter Chrisjan, a blond Afrikaans stereotype of macho-jock-beer-guzzling-idiocy. He just pulls up a chair and starts talking the biggest load of shit on the planet. Fair enough, he was honest when he said his hobby is chatting up complete strangers. But when he started playing 20 Questions I knew this was going to get weird. He assumed (wrongly) than all girls like a sweet and sensitive guy who's interested in them. Not me. When a complete stranger starts asking me what are my physical fears as opposed to my "spiritual" fears, I get worried. I told him straight out that I don't usually discuss those things with complete strangers. I don't know what to say. Plus I'm speaking in Afrikaans, so as good as my command of that language is, it's not as easy to explain myself.
Besides, I'm quite happy to sit by myself, nursing my drink. I don't need a whole lot of people around me, and a lot of people don't understand this. They always assume something is wrong and that they're obliged to "cheer me up". I like watching other people interacting and having their fun. That's me. I have Borderline Personality Disorder. Assimilating others' emotions and actions is part of who I am, because with BPD I don't have any clear definition of myself. I don't know who I am. None of my offline friends know I've been diagnosed with this. Explaining it is difficult for most psychiatrists, so I doubt I'd fair any better.
Anyway Chrisjan wants to talk shit. Fine by me. I do the "Ohmygod!" and "Really? I can't believe that!" routine. But by that time the booze is really starting to kick in, and the shit doesn't sound so bad above the music (which was so fucking awesome by the way). Everyone's dancing with their partners. Now I do not dance with a partner. I took ballet and modern dance. I don't know how to dance with someone else. Anyway, I'm feeling confident enough to try it at least and Chrisjan and I dance a couple of songs. I'm not too steady on my feet and every time I get dipped I screech with laughter. So not to make a complete utter asshat of myself, I go outside for a smoke. Chrisjan follows. One thing leads to another and we end up making out. Stupid, eh?
I'm so disgusted with myself. Not only did I engage in sexual activity with a complete stranger, but I drove home drunk. I hate myself. I'm getting to the point where I'm tired of hiding all this shit from my family. I'm tired of being fucked up. But I'm more scared of confronting it all, because it's safer when you're stuck in your ways.
shirefolk_ sent me this. It made the better part of my day. Thanks, Teesh :)
miss_brandybuck, I'm working on the manips!
]
[ music | Carl Orff - O Fortuna ]
I hate myself. I went to the party, and it felt good to celebrate the 21 years of someone else's life. But I fucked up. Champagne and wine were bad choices, so to prevent myself spending the night throwing up in the bathroom, I made myself at home at the bar. The barmaid and I know one another from the bank I used to work in, because she did the catering there, and it was nice to talk to someone I actually knew. I was going to order a single vodka, straight up. That's how I like it. But the chef walks in and tells me about his second and third personalities, and how a shot of tequila without the lime and salt, brings them out. So I go for tequila, followed by a triple vodka straight up. And guys can see a drunk girl coming from a mile off...
Enter Chrisjan, a blond Afrikaans stereotype of macho-jock-beer-guzzling-idiocy. He just pulls up a chair and starts talking the biggest load of shit on the planet. Fair enough, he was honest when he said his hobby is chatting up complete strangers. But when he started playing 20 Questions I knew this was going to get weird. He assumed (wrongly) than all girls like a sweet and sensitive guy who's interested in them. Not me. When a complete stranger starts asking me what are my physical fears as opposed to my "spiritual" fears, I get worried. I told him straight out that I don't usually discuss those things with complete strangers. I don't know what to say. Plus I'm speaking in Afrikaans, so as good as my command of that language is, it's not as easy to explain myself.
Besides, I'm quite happy to sit by myself, nursing my drink. I don't need a whole lot of people around me, and a lot of people don't understand this. They always assume something is wrong and that they're obliged to "cheer me up". I like watching other people interacting and having their fun. That's me. I have Borderline Personality Disorder. Assimilating others' emotions and actions is part of who I am, because with BPD I don't have any clear definition of myself. I don't know who I am. None of my offline friends know I've been diagnosed with this. Explaining it is difficult for most psychiatrists, so I doubt I'd fair any better.
Anyway Chrisjan wants to talk shit. Fine by me. I do the "Ohmygod!" and "Really? I can't believe that!" routine. But by that time the booze is really starting to kick in, and the shit doesn't sound so bad above the music (which was so fucking awesome by the way). Everyone's dancing with their partners. Now I do not dance with a partner. I took ballet and modern dance. I don't know how to dance with someone else. Anyway, I'm feeling confident enough to try it at least and Chrisjan and I dance a couple of songs. I'm not too steady on my feet and every time I get dipped I screech with laughter. So not to make a complete utter asshat of myself, I go outside for a smoke. Chrisjan follows. One thing leads to another and we end up making out. Stupid, eh?
I'm so disgusted with myself. Not only did I engage in sexual activity with a complete stranger, but I drove home drunk. I hate myself. I'm getting to the point where I'm tired of hiding all this shit from my family. I'm tired of being fucked up. But I'm more scared of confronting it all, because it's safer when you're stuck in your ways.
shirefolk_ sent me this. It made the better part of my day. Thanks, Teesh :)
miss_brandybuck, I'm working on the manips!