It all goes to shit so fast
26 January 2010 at 3:48 pm

You know when you know you should just turn you phone off, hide the battery from yourself, and lock your doors until you're able to think about anything but slit wrists? I'm no good at that.

It has been a good, long time since I cried so hard, the first thing someone says to me the morning after is, "Good mo--what's wrong?" The face, it is puffy.

I don't even know. I was perfectly miserable when I got home from work last night and didn't have time to work out since I had to deal with some audit issues at one of my jobs until 7pm. I put some vegetables in the oven to roast, decided I may as well take advantage of the depression-fueled lack of appetite, turned the oven off, and climbed into bed at 7:30pm, just me and my torrented seasons of Scrubs and DVDs of Arrested Development. If I'm going to be depressed, I may as well laugh about it.

The boy had been texting me all day, and I texted him back to let him know that I was in a bad mood and not to contact me, and then it exploded into this whole thing that ended with him texting:

"I deserve far less than you, and am always amazed you are with me. That's why I have your picture in my phone, I just look at it and am amazed such a beauty wants to spend any time with me at all."

and me texting:

"That's nice of you to say, but how do you think that makes me feel, being with someone who doesn't feel like he deserves me? All that makes me think is that I should be with someone who can spend more than 3 hours a week with me, who can go on vacation with me and give me backrubs all the time and treat me like I'm a bigger priority than sleep. But you can't so that, and I understand that, but that's what I want in a boyfriend, which is impossible, which is why I prefer no boyfriend at all. my expectations are too high and i just get disappointed and it builds up and i crash."

and then I called Esp and told her the boy and I broke up and burst into tears.

Being a superior best friend, she had me giggling after a ten minute sobfest, and then got serious:

"Maybe," she said gently, "you were never really in love with him." A fear. "That doesn't mean you don't love him." A truth.


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About me
Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.