interlude two
This is my back to real life entry. I've been a bit consumed trying to figure everything out that I think I've gone a bit crazy. I feel like I owe someone an explanation of the last few days, especially after the last real life entry after I watched Girl, Interrupted.
Ok, so Friday was a bad day. I keep thinking that it was a good thing that I called in sick, but then I think that if I'd planned to go to work like I should have, I wouldn't have watched that movie, and then nothing would have happened. I would have watched something else, or watched nothing at all. But I suppose it was a good thing that I decided to watch that movie on a day where I didn't have to work, or a day I called in sick for work. And I really did enjoy it. I'm just a tad unstable at the best of times, and easily, oh way too easily, influenced. I just haven't found my sense of self yet so that I'm able to watch or read something like that and still come out the other end unscathed.
So. Friday. Oh man Ally is not going to be happy. Mark wasn't. Drena won't be happy either. I fell. Real bad. I wanted to, of course, and I didn't go as far as I could have, but I went further than I have ever been before. Which isn't really all that far seeing as I seem to have this inability when it comes to actually doing those sorts of things. It's a big deal for me, alright.
So, I uh...hadfiveshotsofliquorandcutupmylegs andstumbledaroundthehousedrunkandthengotintheshower andwastrashedwhenMarkcamehome. And...hepickedupthatsomethingwaswrongrightaway IthinkherealisedthatIwasdrunkprettyquicklyasIwasalittleoutofit (likestumblingaroundtheplacetotallynotevenawarethathewashardlythere) but...hedidn'trealisethatI'dcutnotonlymywrist butbothofmylegs untilwewerelyinginbedwhenIwasalittlelesstrashed.
And yes, I really did have to say that all so fast. And now it feels a little odd typing with spaces after that much typing without spaces. But I'm back to normal now. I dont' think I want to go through it again. Although I will say that having five shots in less than an hour is good enough to get you severly drunk. I'm actually not even sure how I managed to take the stairs, or appear sober when Mark got home. Oh and this is at three in the afternoon, which makes it even a little bit more pathetic. I finished Girl, Interrupted around 2:30pm I think, and then I blogged, and then I went "oh to hell with it let's do some damn damage". And so I did.
Mark was real hurt by it. I didn't feel that bad though, because I was still a little out of it to actually feel bad. And the pain was weird too. Like I could feel it, but it wasn't mine. There wasn't really that reflex that automatically pulls you away from the source of the pain. It was odd. I didn't get hung over though. It was a while before I felt completely sober. I was still a little drunk when I made Mark take me to get Chinese for dinner.
I think I wanted to be a mess when he came home, just because that sounded appealing at the time, but then I decided against it. I'm honestly not sure why I had a shower. I guess him coming home to me in the shower wasn't as bad as him coming home to me drunk on the kitchen bench. I was in the shower for ages though, I hadn't had one that day yet. I just sat there for ages. I think I even managed to lie down at one point, in a normal sized shower. I think the water kept getting in my eyes so I sat back up. I was wondering how long I was in there for because Mark seemed to be taking forever to get home (I got in the shower ten minutes before he finished work) and then remembered that he would have gone to pay rent. He came home when I was brushing my teeth in the shower, and had no idea what I was doing. He picked up pretty quickly that I wasn't alright. Then he found out I was drunk. Then he saw the scratches on my wrist, and then the ones on my legs. I felt bad that the only reason I could give him was "because I wanted to" but that's honestly all I've got. He kept going on about how I was getting better and how I said I didn't want scars and how I'd been so good lately, but oh well.
I really did just want to. And that is all. I know that might make me fucked up, but I kind of like being fucked up, in some sick way. I don't regret it, that's for sure. I think I feel better after doing it, even though I know it's the wrong way to go about things. Maybe I just need to feel like someone, and no other someone fits as well as that someone does. And I only do it every so often. I'd say "maybe it's not such a bad thing" but I know that it is. And one day I will stop doing it. One day I'll be stable enough to watch something and not need to get drunk and cut myself just because.
Friday night was a quiet one, full of Mark being hurt and upset and me apologising over and over again. It ended up alright though. Today was also quiet, with me doing a lot of blogging, and being quite irritable. I feel alright though. Just like how I always feel after I do something stupid like get drunk and cut myself, not that I do it that often. It's just like a blank feeling. I don't feel bad, but I'm not happy that I did it. I'm not angry, or upset, or sad, or annoyed, or anything. I just am. Calm, maybe? I don't know. It's an odd feeling, but it's reassuring. I'm not quite sure how. Anyway, suffice to say that I am feeling sufficiently better.
Oh, and my textbooks for one semester at uni are going to cost me $500. But I'm getting one off a uni friend for like $20 less than retail price, and she says I don't have to pay for postage as she will mail it through her husband's workplace. I felt bad because I couldn't sell her my psych textbooks because I still want them. And I still need one at least. Even though I'll be spending $500 on textbooks and near the same on residential schools this semester, I'm confident that I can pay it. I don't know why, but I just am. It's not as if I'm picking up any extra shifts or anything, but I'm really going to try hard to save money.
And I have a lot of not-self-inflicted scratches all over me as well. Tibbles's claws are very, very sharp now.
And it turns out that Drena's now ex boyfriend has done the dirty big time on her and it's just a shame that NZ is too far away for me to go to kick his sorry ass. He wouldn't be worth the money I'd spend to get over there anyway. Boys suck, most of the time anyway. Mark is pretty good. Guess I just got lucky. Although, sometimes I hate him too.
And I bought a paid LiveJournal account. Yay for me. I just love spending money! But it should be good.