I know last night's post was depressing. It wasn't a moment of 'I hate my life'. I don't hate it. But I still stand by what I said. You have to go through some sort of suffering to get that wake up call.
I'm back to work tomorrow. Which I want to be looking forward to. I have stuff to sort out, as my flat is completely empty now of anything belonging to me (except all the stuff I want to give to charity).
This weekend I went to Kay's party, when I really shouldn't of. I forgot to cancel on her in enough time, and didn't want to be the kind of person who promises they go to something and then says they can't when it's started. When she text asking me where I was, I knew I had to go. So I braved it to town, picked up my rum, which is very bad, and spent my last 20 quid on a taxi there and a pack of cigarettes. The party was fun, and I liked everyone I met, they are my age range despite feeling like everyone is more grown up than me. They are the typical late 20s, early 30s type people, yet I couldn't help feel like I had fallen behind, that these aren't really my people. I also noticed after a few hours that I had become a token gay person to the party. I'm not sure what happened, but at one point I fell asleep on Kay's bed, and then I had to be sick and was vomiting blood. There was cocaine, and also Rico, so I was up and all over the place all night. By the end, I went back to Rico's to pass out in his room, and ended up being over an hour late to meet my mom the next day to clean my flat and move the last of my stuff out, which was horrible when I was feeling ill, hung over and starving.
I've had to cancel visiting ___ in London this weekend coming up because I have to go to my God-daughter's First Holy Communion on the Sunday. The other reasons are to do with money, time, and trying to give up drinking and drugs, a battle I feel I am constantly losing. I don't want to break up friendships because of this, but sometimes I wonder where I'd be with certain people if it wasn't for alcohol. And I like ___ a lot, but being wined and dined in fancy restaurants makes me feel uncomfortable, yet that's what he seems to enjoy doing. I am not like him. And some of his friends... I know what they're thinking. But I am NOT like that. I am not driven or attracted to money, and fancy things. If anything, I am confused with it.
Excluding this blog, I think I talk about myself too much. And by myself, I don't mean 'me me me I'm so great'. But listening in on other's conversations at Kay's, and maybe it's cos of drugs (i got very philosophical in my head by the end of the night because I was so stoned), but I noticed that, and maybe this is because they ALL know each other really well, but they don't talk about themselves. Does that make sense? I sat there, stoned, thinking that right here and there I could not think of anything to talk about unless it was directly relevant to either myself, something I was interested in and had a part of, or something or other... maybe it was because all the boys were talking about football, or because it was 7 am and the party had come to an end, or the spliff I had too much of.... I just found this observation useful, not so much horrifying, but useful to consider in terms of my life detox. Maybe I need to find something else to fall back on other than the basic facts of who I am in terms of creating bonds and relationships with people. I could be being paranoid, who knows.
No comments:
Post a Comment