I really hate it when Jon throws parties.
My day has been very back-and-forth; I was woken up early by a phone call by my professor telling me that I could take my makeup exam. One of my friends called to let me know that he was out of the hospital. Wright State hosted something neat called The Adventure Summit and I spent some time there with BJ and Zach. I got free lunch and I met with my little and some other sisters for dinner at Texas Roadhouse (a side salad and a coke cost me a little over $6), Starbucks, laser tag, and a girls'-night-out shopping trip.
Later in the night I found out that my dad had had a heart attack. He's okay. My visitor's pass for my apartment expired today so I had Jim pick me up from my parking space over at Amity--which, for those who don't know, is about a five minute walk through the cold past many many apartments and it's just a little scary for me at night. I was told that Jon was having a party, which I haaate because things get so loud and I really can't handle lots of volume. Sure enough we had the courtesy officer called on us and at one point there were two cops outside, chilling, but my boyfriend (who gets really paranoid and occasionally mean when he's drunk) started flipping out.
I had no idea he was so HAMMERED. I haven't seen him like this since the camping trip in the summer. He gets really needy... can't stand up very well, needs help turning on lights and moving toilet lids out of the way, even aiming to pee. At the same time he can get pretty verbally abusive. "I love you. I'm going to sleep downstairs, and you can sleep downstairs, 'cause I pay the fucking rent. Fuck this shit." After putting up with this for an hour, it really got to me and I gathered up my things to leave. All I wanted to do tonight was study for my makeup exam on Monday.
I found myself standing outside at 4 in the morning in the cold with my cell phone and my car keys and Maggie curled up against my coat. I stood outside leaned against Jim's car for awhile but I could not get the courage to walk out to my car. Last time I did it, in broad daylight, I was accosted twice for pot, one person driving along after me in his car and another deliberately following me down several blocks and yelling at me the entire time. So, yeah, I'm a fucking pussy. Here I am, downstairs, wide awake at 4:30 in the morning, hoping my boyfriend's fallen into a drunken stupor so I can try to go to bed without being harassed or insulted.
I've been having a lot of trouble lately with feeling like a failure, because it feels like even though I'm pouring my heart into everything, I'm not seeing any improvements. Jim has been the one thing I could fall back on. I can't do it if he's going to be like this. I've been okay with him drinking as long as he was responsible and didn't abuse it. He's probably not going to remember any of this tomorrow. Waking up to an empty bed would've been a nice eye opener. I don't know what to do. This is an issue I was hoping not to have to deal with ever again. Normally Jim and I spend our nights together quietly, doing our own thing or something together, just the two of us.
I really hate it when Jon throws parties.
Later in the night I found out that my dad had had a heart attack. He's okay. My visitor's pass for my apartment expired today so I had Jim pick me up from my parking space over at Amity--which, for those who don't know, is about a five minute walk through the cold past many many apartments and it's just a little scary for me at night. I was told that Jon was having a party, which I haaate because things get so loud and I really can't handle lots of volume. Sure enough we had the courtesy officer called on us and at one point there were two cops outside, chilling, but my boyfriend (who gets really paranoid and occasionally mean when he's drunk) started flipping out.
I had no idea he was so HAMMERED. I haven't seen him like this since the camping trip in the summer. He gets really needy... can't stand up very well, needs help turning on lights and moving toilet lids out of the way, even aiming to pee. At the same time he can get pretty verbally abusive. "I love you. I'm going to sleep downstairs, and you can sleep downstairs, 'cause I pay the fucking rent. Fuck this shit." After putting up with this for an hour, it really got to me and I gathered up my things to leave. All I wanted to do tonight was study for my makeup exam on Monday.
I found myself standing outside at 4 in the morning in the cold with my cell phone and my car keys and Maggie curled up against my coat. I stood outside leaned against Jim's car for awhile but I could not get the courage to walk out to my car. Last time I did it, in broad daylight, I was accosted twice for pot, one person driving along after me in his car and another deliberately following me down several blocks and yelling at me the entire time. So, yeah, I'm a fucking pussy. Here I am, downstairs, wide awake at 4:30 in the morning, hoping my boyfriend's fallen into a drunken stupor so I can try to go to bed without being harassed or insulted.
I've been having a lot of trouble lately with feeling like a failure, because it feels like even though I'm pouring my heart into everything, I'm not seeing any improvements. Jim has been the one thing I could fall back on. I can't do it if he's going to be like this. I've been okay with him drinking as long as he was responsible and didn't abuse it. He's probably not going to remember any of this tomorrow. Waking up to an empty bed would've been a nice eye opener. I don't know what to do. This is an issue I was hoping not to have to deal with ever again. Normally Jim and I spend our nights together quietly, doing our own thing or something together, just the two of us.
I really hate it when Jon throws parties.