Lara I.

Well, here's how it goes:

Friday I worked at the restaurant all day, both shifts. Got off around eight and went to a strip club. And for the record, no, this is not what I usually do, I haven't been there in at least a month. B likes to go with his friends and at this point, it's more that I'd rather go with them than stay home by myself. And there's a girl there named Ariel who yes I understand that she is working is really very friendly to me and is usually good for some interesting conversation. She always remembers my name, too :P

Then Saturday I worked during lunch and came home and slept for a bit, and was woken up by a phonecall from Erica, who, just kinda nonchalantly wanted to know if she could come over. I was like, where are you? And she was like, 9th street, lol. So I just explained to her how to get to this house from the old house, and over she came. I got dressed and we went out for dinner at this little place on the island (my town is dry so none of the restaurants serve alcohol) and then crossed the bridge so we could go somewhere else for some drinks, and she called a bunch of her friends and it was kind of like a "girls night out" or whatever.

She slept on my couch, I went to work at Wawa, then went to work at the restaurant (but only for like four hours) and came home and went to sleep, and then woke up and tried to catch up on some of my TV shows. I got through all my back episodes of Sarah Conner Chronicles and watched one episode of House, but I'm still behind on that one.

And now that I've kind of wound down from the excitement of seeing Erica again and knowing that she's obviously okay, I'm kinda pissed. Not so much at her but at me, I mean, I could have been like, "yeah, way to return my phonecalls and let me know you're not dead in a ditch somewhere" but I wasn't, I didn't even bring it up.

I guess I didn't want to start a fight. I know I can be a bitch sometimes but she's pretty hot-headed too, and I was so glad to see her I just didn't even want to go there. I feel like I should have, though.

So I dunno if she was just passing through or what. I didn't even ask.

Erica is still here. I'm thinking Erica doesn't have a job any more since she worked for the campaigns... I would rather she not be here right now. I don't even mean not living here - I'm not sure about that yet, but that's not what I meant. I just want the house to myself because I'm fucking miserable and I'm sure I'm being a bitch. She keeps trying to have a conversation with me and I keep telling her to leave me the fuck alone.

She's washing the dishes right now, I can hear her. I think she wanted to clean to give herself something to do and to prove she's a decent housemate, but of course I cleaned everything under the sun yesterday when I was mad.

I'm not mad anymore. I got over that. I mean, I can only spend so much time being angry about things that I can't change. It's just a waste of energy, and I never seem to have enough of that as it is. I don't know how the rest of the world does it - I feel like I'm always pushed to my very limits, mentally, emotionally, physically, everything. I'm just permanently exhausted. I guess I'm getting old or something.

( Cut because I keep going about getting old and falling apart. )

I think I'm going to watch the last two episodes of "Life on Mars," which I've kind of been saving for a good time to watch them both together. And try to relax and chill out. Or something.

Dear Erica (and if you snoop around on my computer when I'm not home and actually read this, I don't care - but I'm pretty sure you don't),

I'm not crazy. I never thought I was crazy. None of my family or friends ever thought I was crazy. None of my doctors, including my psychiatrist (who doesn't give a shit about me, lol) think I'm crazy. "Crazy" and "angry" are two different things: "crazy" is organic. "Angry" is environmental. And right now, you are the environment.

I know you've been in my medicine basket looking for something to get high. I know you have. Cause I count my pills, and shit is missing. So, one, flying into a rage over this isn't "crazy." I have that shit because I need it, and you CANT have it because you DONT need it. And believe me, you don't want to need it.

And two, nothing in that basket is to be referred to as "crazy meds." I don't take "crazy meds" because I'm not crazy. There is an antidepressant and a mood stabilizer in there, and I do take them both, but this does not make me "crazy" so don't dismiss me being angry over you messing with my pills as "oh that's just Lara being crazy."

I guess I didn't make this clear when you moved in: those pills rule my life. Don't touch them. Don't "borrow" them and don't mess with them or play with them. I don't care how pathetic this makes me sound. Don't even think about it. Call me obsessed. Call me a junkie if you must.

BUT I'M NOT FUCKING CRAZY.