I don't know how much longer I can do this. My body is beat to hell. I cant' drink like I used to. I can't even escape now, because it makes me too sick.
If people read my blogs, they are probably wondering why it is that I drink if I know it will make things worse. Well, simply put, I am trying to avoid being locked up. We all enjoy drinks to relax, even the most stable non mentally ill people like to kick back with a drink or two. So in my case it's 10 fold because the only time I feel free and relaxed and happy is when I drink. But the bottom line is I am trying to avoid being locked up, and by that I mean, when all the shit and stress starts to get to me, I feel like exploding. I feel like acting out and screaming and breaking shit and cutting. All those things get people sent to the psych ward or worse, in trouble with the law.
Once I have a drink or two I no longer feel angry, I no longer feel stressed or aggressive. It makes me calm and happy and I am friendly and all the good things that a person can be. So that is why I do it. When I'm sick the next day and having anxiety attacks and regretting all the stupid shit I did and said, at least I am not getting locked away because I cracked due to not being able to take my miserable life anymore. Which is what would happen if I quit drinking. I just know I'd completely lose my mind, there is no two ways about it.
But drinking is almost as dangerous. I go online and say and do stupid things. Nothing mean most of the time. Most of the time it's the opposite. Gushy loving letters to friends, trying to befriend people I used to know from the JC acting overly friendly and insane, but at least friendly is the operative word, I am a nice drunk 9 out of 10 I am very sweet and loving so the things I say are nice, not words of anger. MOST of the time.
I went toJess Smith's FB page (I won't use her name for anonymity sake) She was an actress at the JC and I always admired her because she was very talented. Anyway, as I was drunk out of my mind looking at Jess's page, I came to a photo of the cast of the play she was in with Kyle (which brings me to wonder why in the holy hell did I not use a fake name for Kyle, it probably would have been a good idea, but I never forsee these things, I am the Queen of Fucking Shit Up, so there it is. At least there are like a million Kyle's…. but I digress) So anyhow, Kyle was in the cast picture which was painful for me to see because it was taken right around when he dumped me. God it hurt seeing that. And it is so true how much he changed since then and now. He grew up. Like ok, picture a really cute tall guy who is kind of dorky, a little awkward and trying to find his footing. That was Kyle when he dated me.Then a couple of years later BAM hetotally works itSexy Back style andhe now looks like Robert Pattinson (Edward Cullen in Twilight) Yep, that's Kyle. And didn't I just describe his looks. I sure hope no one here knows him, but then again all the ppl on FB who know Kyle know I love him and OH YEAH! So does Kyle! Let's not forget There's that fucking letter I sent him last month that proclaimed my undying loveto him. Shit, this might as well be a reality series now. Anonymity, MY ASS!!!
So fucking poop, I go on FB chat andI talk to Nick (screw it, that's his real name) and tell him that the stage company CANNOT go under because they are talented and wonderful and amazing and all that good goddamn shit.This is a prime example of what a friendly, helpful and living in some bizarre fantasy world I get into when I'm drunk. I told Nick I'd do anything to help, just name it I will be there. Of course I am probably infuriating all the people on there who hate me for being, well me. Actually hate would be too much of a caring word. They just think I'm pathetic.
Bottom line is (and yes I DO have a point to all this) I can't go back on FB again. HA. OMG, I am such a fucking piece of useless work. I'm like the trash someone vomited out in the gutter. What a waste of life. You know that being manic AND depressed at the same time thing? It's really starting to get on my nerves.