| Annual Breakdown Number Three |
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| 12:12am 03/11/2005 |
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mood: crazy music: Zeromancer - New Madonna
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If I had the energy, I would link the past two occasions where I just became overwhelmed with everything in my life. Last year I projectile vomitted into a wastebasket at four in the morning after awakening to severe stomach pains. The year before I was watching "Ratcatcher" alone in my room and just broke down.
Tonight was the premiere of the film I worked on as an intern last year. I got all dressed up and my boyfriend and his family all went. It was a good time, until we got to the restaurant for the after-party. It turns out, I just happened to lose my driver's license and student ID sometime between last night and this morning, and this place just so happened to not let anyone in without an ID after 5pm.
That was the icing on the cake, and I was able to keep it together until Chris and I got back to his place.
Mostly, it's all been in my head. I can visualize myself curled up in a fetal position, crying on the floor while a duplicate of myself stood above me punching and shouting "You're WEAK! WEAK! You crying pansy! Suck it up! Everyone else can! You're weak! Look at yourself! Pathetic!" I could look into the mirror and see only self-loathing. I could look at my schedule and see only twenty-five hour days crammed into twenty-four hours.
Between sobs, I mumbled, "I don't know what's happening to me. I think I'm losing my mind. I never used to be like this. I wasn't this frazzled. I didn't lose things and forget names and become disorganized. It's too much, and I can't take it all on at once. I don't know how other people do it, because I can't."
I hate that I lost my identification. I hate that I have to pay for new ones. I hate that our house is a mess and we're supposed to be having a party this weekend. I hate that my sister is having surgery in two days and I can't be there. I hate that I work too much. I hate that the cooks yell at me for not loading my trays fast enough. I hate that Chris no longer compliments me if I dress up. I hate that I can't see him as often as I used to. I hate political paintings. I hate those Rolling Stone magazinnes hanging on the walls. I hate that I feel guilty because I know I have it so much better than a lot of people, but that it's still not good enough.
I just want to forget it all for a day. Just one day. Hop in the car and drive to a hotel an hour away or thirty minutes away and just stay there all night. I'd order room service and lie on nthe bed and watch mindless fluff for hours while cuddling with my sweetheart.
For the first time in weeks, Chris was really there for me. He was so comforting and so understanding, and that was so important. I may be losing my mind, but that doesn't seem to phase him. He told me to forget about the clothes I still haven't put away, to forget about the dishes in the sink, to call in sick to work, to treat myself like I would a friend, to go to that hotel.
But I don't want to go alone. |
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