words like violence break the silence
I think I'm pathetic. Or atleast I'm pretty damn close to pathetic. Sure, things have been good lately. Classes are going well, my design project rocks, I got a part in the play, but I'm realizing that all of it is superficial. My nights have been sleepless, or erratic, interrupted (and for the past few nights wine induced) sleep. I end up staying in most nights. I don't go out, not that I ever really wanted to, but it's getting to the point that I'm becoming an antisocial introvert. I miss Mickey for all the wrong reasons. He and I haven't spoken since July, which is probably a good thing. I had him in my back pocket for so long. I used him. I would confide in him, or call him obliterated out of my mind on liquor and cry til I there was nothing to cry about. I would only want to hang out with on my terms. I was always the one who called him to do something. I thought I was in love with him but really I was in love with the idea that I had him wrapped around my finger. I could always depend on him to tell me how wonderful I was. I thought he would always be there like a lovesick puppy, waiting for me on my doorstep. It makes me sick to think I ever thought this way.
I guess everybody goes through that. They keep someone around because it makes them feel better about themselves. I needed Mickey in a time where I was close to dropping out of school, when I had no friends at school, when I should have sought professional help and probably medication, when I should have told my mother all the stupid shit I did, when I made more mistakes than I care to speak about. He became my anchor. He was someone stable who I could latch onto. I strung him along through Nate and then I turned him down and he never forgave me. I've had to fight the urge to contact him. I want to apologize to him, more than anything I want my friend back. Not the friend I used, but the friend I cared about, the friend I had no ulterior motives for.
This is beyond stupid. This is me dwelling again and reliving past failures. This is me on no sleep, sitting alone in my room with nothing better to do. I don't tell people much anymore. I'm afraid to pour myself into someone again. Although I have grown years this past summer, I still have these moments where I become a 13 year old girl again. I want to curl up in a ball under my bed and stay there.