Lost

I feel like I should be angry.

Like, really angry.

So angry that steam starts pouring out of my ears and my face turns bright red like I'm some sort of cartoon character.

And I'm not.

I'm actually kind of an emotional void at the moment.

It's like, I've teared up so many times this week, but I always stop myself before the waterworks really start because my brother is home and I don't want to give him any more "you're soft and weak" fodder to use against me, or I'm at work and I have shit to get done, dammit, and I can't afford to lose my job because I'm in a slump (though, in actuality, my boss is really nice about these things and is letting me have more hours so I can be distracted, even though business is painfully slow at the moment).

All these pent-up tears are making me feel queasy, and my eyes really itch all the time now, and my body aches and I'm super lethargic, but I can't make myself throw up to get rid of it and I can't really let loose with the tears.

I quit smoking the third of the year. I bought a pack of menthols this morning.

We got to work before the gate to the parking lot was open, so I stomped around in the untouched snow with my coffee in one hand and a lit Pall Mall in the other, giggling like a madwoman and freezing my hands because I forgot to leave my gloves in my coat pockets when I got home last night so they hurt from the wind but I didn't care.

They're actually not as cracked and bleeding as I thought they'd be, almost four hours later, but I'm worried that this kind of disappoints me.

I was on the phone last night with a friend I've only actually hung out with four times in all the time I've known him, and got to get a semi-decent cry out. It was a little bit cathartic, but after the phone call was over I was disgusted with how dirty crying makes my face feel so I washed my face and fell asleep watching The Tigger Movie instead of continuing to deal.

I also realized that I'm really pissed off at everyone who keeps telling me "It's good that it's over; you need to get out of that scenario; you can do better; this is unhealthy; I'm proud of you; etc." Blah, blah, blah. I don't care.

You know that expression "Give a man a fish. . ." right?

Stop telling me it's a good thing that this week's horrible events happened. I'm heartbroken, and I don't want to feel guilty for being heartbroken because I shouldn't be heartbroken because PofI is an ass. I know he's an ass. I've learned this first hand, several times now, and apparently it has yet to sink in because I'm still heartbroken but let me be heartbroken, dammit, before the snow finishes melting and I can't pretend it's his face while I crunch the shit out of it, okay?

It's really frustrating. I know y'all, all my loved ones, mean well, but the reason I'm blogging this shit is because keeping all these thoughts just in my head gives me limited space to stretch them all out and make sense of everything, so if something I said at the beginning of one sentence directly contradicted something I said at the end of the next, it's because I'm still unjumbling everything in my brain and I'm not done yet and I'm going to finish getting everything out and be done with it so I can breathe a while and not worry about editing it and proofreading it because this is for me, not you. I know you're trying to help. That's really cool of you, and admirable because even I'm fed up with my shit at this point, but I need time to cry so I can get angry so I can play some Miranda Lambert and then calm down and be a real person.

But I'm not there, yet. And when I do get there, please feel free to crap talk PofI as much as you want to me, and I'll laugh right along with you because I make stupid decisions when under the influence of sexy man pheromones and emotions and other similar drugs, but right now I'm not there yet, okay?

Right now I'm kind of lost.

Please respect that.