Monday, August 4

"And the four right chords can make me cry..."

So, I canceled my appointment with the psychiatrist today. I woke up and thought to myself, "Hey, my life is turning itself around. Mary Jane and I slowly are parting ways, and I don't feel the incessant need to self-medicate anymore. Things are slowly turning themselves around. I think I'm going to be a-okay." Let's just hope that this decision doesn't turn around and bite me in the ass. I honestly would not be surprised if it did though. I guess we will see about that in the next couple of months.

I've pretty much diagnosed myself with my problems; I have a lot of pent up anger towards my mother and a certain emotionally abusive ex-boyfriend. As much as he loved to deny it, said boyfriend knew what he was doing when he constantly fucked with my head, but I honestly don't think my mom has a clue. Ever since I hit my twenties, we've butted heads more than we did when I was a teenager. I guess it has something to do with her not wanting to let go, but Christ, she needs to realize I'm pretty alright for a 22 year old. I mean, really. I've got my issues like everyone else, but I like to think I'm pretty well-rounded. Not to turn this blog into a rant about my boyfriend/mom issues - it just all came to a head last night in this crazy vivid dream I had involving my mom and grandma screaming at me to just get to Mississippi and leave them alone. Well, and my brother and his girlfriend were having a baby, and everyone was really excited. That was just weird.

As for the ex, that will just take time to heal...longer than I'd like. It has been six months since we broke up, and, without even talking to him, he still can manage to break me down to nothing. So many cruel words and sketchy actions are ingrained in my head, and I'm just trying to block them out as much as possible. More important than cutting my self-esteem down to nothing and isolating me from the things I love, he also managed to ruin a ton of great songs for me. THANKS. Now I can't listen to "New Slang" or "I Will Follow You Into the Dark" without my stomach churning. I managed to get Nick Drake back for the most part though, so I can't really complain.

Lately I keep thinking about Mississippi and not necessarily in an excited way. Just kind of neutral. A year from today I'm going to be all moved in, anxiously awaiting for school to start. I'm not really second guessing my decision to go to Ole Miss; I just keep feeling like I did everything backwards. Aren't you supposed to go to the city, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, after college? I went when I was 18, and now I'm completely jaded to the whole environment, wanting to leave everything behind for a town with 1/100th of the population I am used to. I guess that works out though. Still, I'm nervous at how I will adjust. No traffic and no smog will be awesome - but no Metalsome and no Northside? Eh. Not so sure about that.

I'm so broke it physically pains me to look at my bank account. I've slowly started paying off my credit card which I'm pretty stoked about, but other than that...not so stoked. I've exhausted my savings paying for my car to actually run smoothly, and I found out the other day I owe my apartment complex $1,055 for not telling them I am moving out sixty days in advance. Nothing surprises me anymore financially. I'm surprised I've controlled my debt as much as I have, but it seriously seems to get worse everyday.

My tattoo is totally scabbed over and disgusting looking. I absolutely hate the healing process. I just want to scrape it all off because, honestly, it looks like some sort of backwoods, prison tattoo right now. I just want the colors to be pretty again.

Smoltz is out. Tex is traded. Tim Hudson is out for the season after his Tommy John's surgery. Skip Caray died. What. The. Hell. We are cursed. It is official.

Do work.

No comments: