MARCH, 2016
Things I learned in March:
1. People talk a whole lotta trash, a whole lotta hot air. Don't get lost in it.
2. Your twenties really are for working hard, reap that reward later. Suck it the fuck up now.
3. Throwing yourself into work is going to totally drain you. Some of your 'friends' aren't going to get it but it's the most positive and productive you've been. See how rewarding it is? Ilya was right after all.
4. You'll filter out your 'friends' this month. No more negative people in your life. In the words of Drake "Fuck a fake friend - where your real friends at". - Yes I did just quote Drake.
5. Your friends are real fucking golden goddesses, your so fortunate to have so many. Count your blessings.
6. Lifes got a really beautiful way of working itself out.
7. I fell in love with fucking again. Why the absolute fuck did I give my body to one boy for eight years? Eight valuable, youthful, beautiful years. Jesus christ was I wasted on you.
1. People talk a whole lotta trash, a whole lotta hot air. Don't get lost in it.
2. Your twenties really are for working hard, reap that reward later. Suck it the fuck up now.
3. Throwing yourself into work is going to totally drain you. Some of your 'friends' aren't going to get it but it's the most positive and productive you've been. See how rewarding it is? Ilya was right after all.
4. You'll filter out your 'friends' this month. No more negative people in your life. In the words of Drake "Fuck a fake friend - where your real friends at". - Yes I did just quote Drake.
5. Your friends are real fucking golden goddesses, your so fortunate to have so many. Count your blessings.
6. Lifes got a really beautiful way of working itself out.
7. I fell in love with fucking again. Why the absolute fuck did I give my body to one boy for eight years? Eight valuable, youthful, beautiful years. Jesus christ was I wasted on you.
8. Don't fuck your friends. BIG FUCKING MISTAKE. Especially as temporarily they are going to turn in to an asshole and hurt you more than any stupid instantly forgettable one night stand.
9. Getting high will cause you to loose your shit, funny for five, pranging for hours. Hey it's okay at least that bag of cookies got your back.
10. Binge eating and not purging will make you fat, simple fact of life my friend.
9. Getting high will cause you to loose your shit, funny for five, pranging for hours. Hey it's okay at least that bag of cookies got your back.
10. Binge eating and not purging will make you fat, simple fact of life my friend.
You've probably got the general gist that March filled me full of contradictions, which I will get into shortly but first something that has to be way more noteworthy...
I spent the first two weeks of March being truly elated. Truly, truly fucking happy. Truly I-could-give-a-fuck-about-anyone-other-than-lapping-up-me-as-a-happy-go-lucky-ray-of-fucking-sunshine.
Obviously. That did not last. And if it had reading posts about me puking rainbows and shitting glitter wouldn't be half as entertaining as my unbearable failed attempts at life. Hey I gotta make you feel better about yours right? After all for the most part that is probably why your reading this.
Okay so heres the thing. The beginning of March started off beautifully - a few days terribly - picked myself back up for the remainder of the month - then it all went to shit on the very last weekend of the month. NB - Weekend. You seem to be my very downfall.
I had just got back from the most beautifully snotty trip from Milan, I had heard my best friend (younger best friend - yes age really does seem to be a pressing matter for me now I am coming up to my quater life crisis - maybe this is it now?) talking marriage, buying houses, you know real grown up fucking shit. Whilst I ... I can't save a penny because HEY I just really need another vacation, another pair of shoes and I most certainly can't keep any interest in a guy past pillow talk. You do the business, I'm bored, bye, you leave. With maybe the exception of one but hey you turned out to be a total douchebag. So yeah anyway, I couldn't even fathom the idea of keeping and committing to a guy for longer than a night, let alone a week, let alone a month, let alone for always & ever with those binding rings that seal your life away. Don't get me wrong I am big on marriage, I am a total love junkie but I just haven't found someone I could ever even remotely begin to imagine that with. I guess after being in that situation and finding myself heartbroken I shut down that bit of my heart and my brain. I just will not allow myself to be open to getting hurt again, perhaps a bleak way of looking at it but after clawing at my kitchen floor wanting nothing more than to kill myself, forgive me when I say when I say FUCK THAT ever again. As always I am rambling, I am giving up coffee - (I say currently drinking the sugariest cup of coffee sludge syrup) what I am trying to get to is that I was basically given the advice that I should look a little further than what is generically 'my type'. Aka my cynical, dirty, ambitious, hilarious, long haired, tattooed, cartel cladded, so skinny you look diseased, dream guy - apparently yeah that isn't working for me. So I need to 'broaden my horizons' as it were, aka lower my standards ...
But do you know what another FUCK THAT, I lowered my standards for eight fucking years of my life, yeah this guy kinda in growing with me moulded himself to what fit my ideal and I guess the stylist in me couldn't put up with his dire dress sense for all that long but you know there must of been a reason it lasted eight years right? Ever the optimist I did decide to open my eyes a little wider or at least for a little while give it ago.
Which is when something truly terrible happened, I convinced myself I had fallen in love with one of my best friends. A couple of my friends have been trying to persuade me that you know this guy could be pretty ideal for me, he is incredibly supportive, forever complementing me, pushing me to see my potential, never judges me regardless of some of the moronic situations he has had to pick me up through and you know of course he hasn't, he is one of my closest friends and you know for the most that is what your friends are there for... We got wasted one night (of course - this is me we are referencing here) and spoke about how we were dangerous around one another, how there was this huge under lying tension, how if we started something it could be very real, how we could fall in love and BOOM that fucked me. Everybody was right. This guy most probably was that guy for me and at that moment in time, I truly believed the universe was giving me a sign, I never for a second believed it to be the copious amount of double rums I had consumed in such a short space of time talking. No this was the real deal. This was it. I was going to be in love again. So shit happened and the next day when I was working on set I watched my best friend and him boyfriend working together in harmony and felt a little smug like 'Hey, I'm gonna be getting in on this too, I'ma have me a boyfriend and we're going to be just in love as you'. How very, very, very fucking wrong I was about to be. You see I have always been told to never ever sleep with your friends, especially if you class them as a good friend. I've never wanted to hook up with my friends, I mean they are all total babes but the drama that would follow, no thanks. I defied my logic in this case because I honestly thought this was going to be a little more than just a huge mistake. Silly, foolish, idiotic me. I don't really wanna get into it, it was pretty painful but my best friend and the bottle were there for me and after a couple of weeks we got over it and we are tight again. Moral of the story - don't fuck your friends kids, it'll only end in disaster.
Because I am super down with taking my own advice naturally two weeks later, whilst drowning my sorrows once again with my best friend and a bottle of an expensive White headache, I slept with another one of my friends. Fresh outta yoga and sweatily in to his bed. Okay with the slight little detour of passing out on my yoga matt at the party after slipping down a few valium, great party trick there darlin. WHOOPS. And that's when things got really interesting. I kinda realised I like fucking, I don't want to be confined to only fucking one person. Well I guess with that one person it was more 'making love' but in my current state of mind all I wanted to do was meet guys, fuck them, then leave them. I have dabbled this in a little this year but I wanted to go all out. I skipped my slutty school phase and now would be the time to make up for it. And I did in a big way. One night stands became my new best friend. After all the years of my friends preaching the 'fuck and chuck' date debate my way, I got it. It was great.
After being on a total roll, once again the weekend came and once again something terrible followed. I'd had a super sick night, hooked up with a total babe. I was supposed to go back home for a birthday or some other event but my hangover took over and I couldn't leave my friends bed. At some point in the night we decided it would be a great idea to go meet the guys from before again, hey it was a great hook up, who said it needed to be a one night stand. Let's try and repeat this. Bad idea my friend. The whole point of a one night stand is just that, that it remains for the one night. However hungover as hell, we took to the night once again. We get to our usual haunt, not fuelled by alcohol but for me fuelled by anxiety. This guy walks up and says hello. It's fine. I die. I couldn't speak. I mean honestly, for a good hour I did not particularly say a word. TEEEEEQUILLLLA. Hello my old friend. I slammed them back deciding this would drown out my anxiety. Forgetting full well the desperation and disaster that usually takes place following anxious drinking and oh boy did it take place. We head back to his party and he is giving me little to no attention, the cocktail of narcotics and booze fuelled my anxiety to take the nastiest turn. I shouted at him. Yes. Shouted. I 'told him off' for ignoring me and not wanting to hook up with me. Jesus girl. I felt ignored. I felt insecure. I felt god damn fucking awful and I gave in and made it worse. The worst part is that it went on probably a good half an hour. I looked/acted/am fucking mental. The even worse part is when he disappeared off to bed, I followed, in some sad last ditch attempt for that final hook up. Why oh why could I not have left it at the one night stand. WHY. The second hook up was great, most importantly I discovered I'm fucking good at blowjobs. I always hated them but as of this regrettable night I started loving them. When we both woke it was very clear that he thought I was a total monster, my ex was ringing me wanting to come and visit and I made a very hasty bleary eyed exit. What followed was not pretty. I spent two solid days wanting truly nothing other than to die. I couldn't even be alone at my parents place, it felt like August all over. I dealt with it in the only way I knew how. I got totally and utterly cunted down the pub with some of my best pals. I sat crying, ridden with anxiety for the best part of three hours. Thank god when the bag got bought out because that cheered me the fuck up. I realised the only way to get over my anxiety of 'forever being alone' because I am quite clearly the neediest fucker alive was to jump in bed with someone who after a few reminded me of a junky ridden Jared Leto playing the part of Harry in Requiem. Obviously I was in love/lust/love. Jesus I need to get a grip. But it worked. I ended the month feeling bloody fab again.
And on to the next anxiety ridden month huh?
I had just got back from the most beautifully snotty trip from Milan, I had heard my best friend (younger best friend - yes age really does seem to be a pressing matter for me now I am coming up to my quater life crisis - maybe this is it now?) talking marriage, buying houses, you know real grown up fucking shit. Whilst I ... I can't save a penny because HEY I just really need another vacation, another pair of shoes and I most certainly can't keep any interest in a guy past pillow talk. You do the business, I'm bored, bye, you leave. With maybe the exception of one but hey you turned out to be a total douchebag. So yeah anyway, I couldn't even fathom the idea of keeping and committing to a guy for longer than a night, let alone a week, let alone a month, let alone for always & ever with those binding rings that seal your life away. Don't get me wrong I am big on marriage, I am a total love junkie but I just haven't found someone I could ever even remotely begin to imagine that with. I guess after being in that situation and finding myself heartbroken I shut down that bit of my heart and my brain. I just will not allow myself to be open to getting hurt again, perhaps a bleak way of looking at it but after clawing at my kitchen floor wanting nothing more than to kill myself, forgive me when I say when I say FUCK THAT ever again. As always I am rambling, I am giving up coffee - (I say currently drinking the sugariest cup of coffee sludge syrup) what I am trying to get to is that I was basically given the advice that I should look a little further than what is generically 'my type'. Aka my cynical, dirty, ambitious, hilarious, long haired, tattooed, cartel cladded, so skinny you look diseased, dream guy - apparently yeah that isn't working for me. So I need to 'broaden my horizons' as it were, aka lower my standards ...
But do you know what another FUCK THAT, I lowered my standards for eight fucking years of my life, yeah this guy kinda in growing with me moulded himself to what fit my ideal and I guess the stylist in me couldn't put up with his dire dress sense for all that long but you know there must of been a reason it lasted eight years right? Ever the optimist I did decide to open my eyes a little wider or at least for a little while give it ago.
Which is when something truly terrible happened, I convinced myself I had fallen in love with one of my best friends. A couple of my friends have been trying to persuade me that you know this guy could be pretty ideal for me, he is incredibly supportive, forever complementing me, pushing me to see my potential, never judges me regardless of some of the moronic situations he has had to pick me up through and you know of course he hasn't, he is one of my closest friends and you know for the most that is what your friends are there for... We got wasted one night (of course - this is me we are referencing here) and spoke about how we were dangerous around one another, how there was this huge under lying tension, how if we started something it could be very real, how we could fall in love and BOOM that fucked me. Everybody was right. This guy most probably was that guy for me and at that moment in time, I truly believed the universe was giving me a sign, I never for a second believed it to be the copious amount of double rums I had consumed in such a short space of time talking. No this was the real deal. This was it. I was going to be in love again. So shit happened and the next day when I was working on set I watched my best friend and him boyfriend working together in harmony and felt a little smug like 'Hey, I'm gonna be getting in on this too, I'ma have me a boyfriend and we're going to be just in love as you'. How very, very, very fucking wrong I was about to be. You see I have always been told to never ever sleep with your friends, especially if you class them as a good friend. I've never wanted to hook up with my friends, I mean they are all total babes but the drama that would follow, no thanks. I defied my logic in this case because I honestly thought this was going to be a little more than just a huge mistake. Silly, foolish, idiotic me. I don't really wanna get into it, it was pretty painful but my best friend and the bottle were there for me and after a couple of weeks we got over it and we are tight again. Moral of the story - don't fuck your friends kids, it'll only end in disaster.
Because I am super down with taking my own advice naturally two weeks later, whilst drowning my sorrows once again with my best friend and a bottle of an expensive White headache, I slept with another one of my friends. Fresh outta yoga and sweatily in to his bed. Okay with the slight little detour of passing out on my yoga matt at the party after slipping down a few valium, great party trick there darlin. WHOOPS. And that's when things got really interesting. I kinda realised I like fucking, I don't want to be confined to only fucking one person. Well I guess with that one person it was more 'making love' but in my current state of mind all I wanted to do was meet guys, fuck them, then leave them. I have dabbled this in a little this year but I wanted to go all out. I skipped my slutty school phase and now would be the time to make up for it. And I did in a big way. One night stands became my new best friend. After all the years of my friends preaching the 'fuck and chuck' date debate my way, I got it. It was great.
After being on a total roll, once again the weekend came and once again something terrible followed. I'd had a super sick night, hooked up with a total babe. I was supposed to go back home for a birthday or some other event but my hangover took over and I couldn't leave my friends bed. At some point in the night we decided it would be a great idea to go meet the guys from before again, hey it was a great hook up, who said it needed to be a one night stand. Let's try and repeat this. Bad idea my friend. The whole point of a one night stand is just that, that it remains for the one night. However hungover as hell, we took to the night once again. We get to our usual haunt, not fuelled by alcohol but for me fuelled by anxiety. This guy walks up and says hello. It's fine. I die. I couldn't speak. I mean honestly, for a good hour I did not particularly say a word. TEEEEEQUILLLLA. Hello my old friend. I slammed them back deciding this would drown out my anxiety. Forgetting full well the desperation and disaster that usually takes place following anxious drinking and oh boy did it take place. We head back to his party and he is giving me little to no attention, the cocktail of narcotics and booze fuelled my anxiety to take the nastiest turn. I shouted at him. Yes. Shouted. I 'told him off' for ignoring me and not wanting to hook up with me. Jesus girl. I felt ignored. I felt insecure. I felt god damn fucking awful and I gave in and made it worse. The worst part is that it went on probably a good half an hour. I looked/acted/am fucking mental. The even worse part is when he disappeared off to bed, I followed, in some sad last ditch attempt for that final hook up. Why oh why could I not have left it at the one night stand. WHY. The second hook up was great, most importantly I discovered I'm fucking good at blowjobs. I always hated them but as of this regrettable night I started loving them. When we both woke it was very clear that he thought I was a total monster, my ex was ringing me wanting to come and visit and I made a very hasty bleary eyed exit. What followed was not pretty. I spent two solid days wanting truly nothing other than to die. I couldn't even be alone at my parents place, it felt like August all over. I dealt with it in the only way I knew how. I got totally and utterly cunted down the pub with some of my best pals. I sat crying, ridden with anxiety for the best part of three hours. Thank god when the bag got bought out because that cheered me the fuck up. I realised the only way to get over my anxiety of 'forever being alone' because I am quite clearly the neediest fucker alive was to jump in bed with someone who after a few reminded me of a junky ridden Jared Leto playing the part of Harry in Requiem. Obviously I was in love/lust/love. Jesus I need to get a grip. But it worked. I ended the month feeling bloody fab again.
And on to the next anxiety ridden month huh?