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exhilarationSometimes I just feel really sick of life. Not BEING ALIVE, just, living my life. Mine, specifically. It's like, okay, I've been tormented enough now, can I get a break now, for just a bit, can I just have things go back to normal?
Ah, but they are never going to go back to normal, are they?
I burned myself cooking tonight. It hurts. I burned myself on the inside of my wrist, too - really sensitive skin there. Probably going to leave a hideous scar. I can't wait. Hot oil for the win.
I, ah, did something I'm not real proud of, and I've been feeling pretty unsettled about it for a few days now. Yeah, it's Tuesday, so it's about that time for the weekend to catch up with me I guess.
I hooked up with the bartender from my restaurant, is what it comes down to. I'll spare the gory details, but - yeah. That's what I did. Because - I don't know why. I thought I didn't like guys anyway? I mean, I like him fine, I have no problem with him, I don't find myself particularly attracted to him though. We're not even friends. It just... happened. And he was really drunk, I guess, because the next morning (oh god, I can't believe I'm even writing this sentence) he acted like he didn't really remember exactly what happened between us.
But he drove me to my house, let me go inside and change, and then drove me to work. So, I mean, it's not like he was being an asshole about it, but still. He didn't remember much from the night before. I, of course, remember it just fine.
So I've seen him a few times since then and he's pretty much acting like it never happened. So am I. And I have this weird feeling like everyone at work is talking about us or something. I don't like it.
I think I like... feeling attractive. I guess I must - if all he had to do to get in my pants was act like he wanted in, I mean, geez, go me, right? That says a lot about my self-respect now doesn't it. But it's not like I've had any type of action - hell, it's not like anyone has so much as even LOOKED at me since, oh, since Krissy was here that one time. Ages ago.
Unsettled - unresolved, I guess. I feel like I'm waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop. Whatever that's supposed to mean.
Ah, but they are never going to go back to normal, are they?
I burned myself cooking tonight. It hurts. I burned myself on the inside of my wrist, too - really sensitive skin there. Probably going to leave a hideous scar. I can't wait. Hot oil for the win.
I, ah, did something I'm not real proud of, and I've been feeling pretty unsettled about it for a few days now. Yeah, it's Tuesday, so it's about that time for the weekend to catch up with me I guess.
I hooked up with the bartender from my restaurant, is what it comes down to. I'll spare the gory details, but - yeah. That's what I did. Because - I don't know why. I thought I didn't like guys anyway? I mean, I like him fine, I have no problem with him, I don't find myself particularly attracted to him though. We're not even friends. It just... happened. And he was really drunk, I guess, because the next morning (oh god, I can't believe I'm even writing this sentence) he acted like he didn't really remember exactly what happened between us.
But he drove me to my house, let me go inside and change, and then drove me to work. So, I mean, it's not like he was being an asshole about it, but still. He didn't remember much from the night before. I, of course, remember it just fine.
So I've seen him a few times since then and he's pretty much acting like it never happened. So am I. And I have this weird feeling like everyone at work is talking about us or something. I don't like it.
I think I like... feeling attractive. I guess I must - if all he had to do to get in my pants was act like he wanted in, I mean, geez, go me, right? That says a lot about my self-respect now doesn't it. But it's not like I've had any type of action - hell, it's not like anyone has so much as even LOOKED at me since, oh, since Krissy was here that one time. Ages ago.
Unsettled - unresolved, I guess. I feel like I'm waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop. Whatever that's supposed to mean.
