Violations of the Feeble Remainders of my Sanity

I spent the night at a friend's house Saturday after I got off work.

Clarification: at the house of my only real friend in this state. She's also the relative of a coworker of whom I'm quite fond, so there's that little tidbit of trivia which kind of comes into play later.

Her parental units (not her parents, the acting adult supervision in her life, the people she lives with, one of whom is the coworker I'm fond of) were throwing a belated wedding reception for some friends of theirs Sunday morning, and I got to go as my friend's date, and since they needed help setting up I volunteered for that, too, and was all prepared to use this past weekend to get my mind off.

So, I hiked to their house Saturday after work. Through the snowy, slushy ghetto and the housing projects near which I live, at three-thirty/four in the afternoon when it's still light outside, and it's only a mile, mile and a half from my house to hers. Forty minute walk in good weather, tops, and it really only took me two hours in the snow. I also went the long way so I skipped most of the projects, was on a semi-major street most of the way, and by the time the street lamps went on I was at the intersection by the entrance to the neighborhood.

So no big deal.

But there's a grocery store by her house, and I stopped to buy her a box of Hershey's kisses and a small balloon (because, hey. Cheap candy day) because making other people smile makes me happy. It's almost entirely selfish, but not quite.

But almost.

And we go into her room and vent about our shitty weeks, and she goes first and she tears up, and then it's my turn and I tell her about my shitty week and how I can't process anything and should anything else happen right now then I'm just going to curl up and die, and how awful Poffle (the asshole formerly known as PofI) is and how life just sucks and if just one more thing happens . . .

And then I realize she's angling for a kiss.

Which is just one more giant, steaming turd on the massive pile of shit that is currently my life.

Seriously, though. Did you not just listen to me explain in graphic and sometimes vulgar detail how fucked up I am by everything right now? Did you not just hear me say how I can't handle anything else? Were you not paying attention, or do you just not care? Because, either way, I need to know. Also, you and I are each others' only friends here (L is in exactly the same position I am, down to the asshole older brother who is loved dearly but impossible to live with) and I really don't want to jeopardize that by feeling anything other than sisterly love for you, especially when I'm a freaking wreck and you are too and shit just fucking sucks.

So yeah. That really sucked to deflect in the middle of a mental breakdown.

As I'm falling asleep later that night after helping make tons of food and punching out lots of flower-shaped confetti. Poffle texts me. The conversation opens with "How's it going pretty lady?" progresses to the eventual plan to play Magic: The gathering, and then afterwards quickly deteriorates to:

Poffle: . . . wish you were here
Fantasticness: O.o yeah, i hear ya. (<- meant to be sarcastic; sarcasm doesn't work in text form)
P: Naked. ;)
F: Hmm. . . You'd have to seduce me, first and foremost. I recommend starting with some cheesy romantic gesture devoid of allergens (<- again being facetious; still doesn't work over texts; also because I know he forgot I'm allergic to romance aka chocolate, roses, and pomegranate so any gesture he would throw together will probably kill me)
P: Haha. ;)
F: Seriously (<- seriously frustrated)
P: "I love seeing you naked.~ does that count? ;)
F: Nope :) (<- jackass)
F: Fun, but not cheesy romantic (<- and you're missing the point)
P: :(
F: Come up with something creative (<- because you're a douchebag and have never put forth effort)
P: Zzzzzzz
F: Okay. Ttyl then (<- done with your shit for the night)

Okay, so I'm definitely not in the right state to be talking to Poffle, what with a long-ass week, my asshole brother being my asshole brother, and the fact that this conversation happened between 2228hrs and 2345, and I generally wake up around five in the morning, so I'm also seriously sleep deprived, but I own up to encouraging the conversation.

Seriously, though. What. The FUCK. Am I supposed to do with this exchange? You dumped me on Monday. It's Saturday night. I get it. You're lonely. Whatever. But so am I, and I do not appreciate being toyed with this way.

Anyway, the party was AWESOME! Bloody Mary's are really gross, by the way, even with Old Bay on the rim (which makes it a Bloody Maryland.) Mimosas are good, though. I had one, it knocked me on my ass, so I drank water, ate food, took ibuprofen, and was back to normal. And then I DID IT AGAIN! And it was great! I feel like I'm on the fast track to becoming an alcoholic, but it was fun.

Also, if anyone asks, I'm over 21.

So while I'm drinking and eating and helping set up the cupcake tower of doom and wonder I'm also talking to some really cool people and, for the first time in forever, having a fantastic time. I meet the girl who is bartending, and she's funny and smart and cool and likes books and vodka (two of my favorite things). I meet the bride who, several years ago, held the position I currently have at my company, and has an awesome sense of humor and a beautiful smile. I meet the children of another attendee of this party (whom I met once before) and hit it off with her two daughters, 12 and 14, which makes me kind of creepy but, you know what? These young ladies are smart, like school, like math and science, like reading, have great senses of humor, beautiful smiles, the older one is learning to solve Rubik's cubes, and I spent four hours having a wonderful conversation with total strangers I hit it off with, creepiness be damned. These girls also happen to be doppelgangers of people I know and love back home, so, added bonus!

Eventually, the party dies down as all parties do, and I call my brother to ask if he can come get me or if I need to bum a ride home. The conversation was more or less as follows:

"Hey. Do I still need to get my own ride home."
"Can you stay there for a while longer?"
"Uh, probably. What's wrong?"
"Just stay there, okay?"
"No. What happened what's wrong?"
"It's none of your concern. The house got broken into but none of your stuff was taken."
"What?! Are you kidding me? Of course it's my concern; I live there!"
"No it's not. Stay there. See if you can stay another night."
"No, it is my concern. What happened?! Are you okay?!!"
"I'll be there in a bit. The police just left. Just stay there for a while, okay?"
"Okay. But it is my concern. Be safe. I'll see you in a bit."

So, there went all the good feelings of the day.

I break the fuck down in the middle of this party, which thank God is down to only ten people from the earlier fifty. I grab my shoes and my coat and go outside to smoke on the porch. The bartender, H, follows me and asks me what's wrong. So I tell her.

I relive in this conversation every single sucky second of the last week, and how awful I feel, and the fact that Poffle seems to be replacing me with some chick I know from school back home, and how he's spending so much time with the guy he bought the sword for, and how I can't deal with my brother and how work is dead-end and school pressure is building and I can't. fucking. DEAL. with ANYTHING. And EVERYTHING is going to shit, and now, on top of everything else, L is being all weird and my house isn't safe and I don't want to go home to my apartment and I don't want to go back West and I can't deal with anything and by this point I've cried twenty-five times since Monday afternoon and I feel sick with all the saline I haven't cried out of my system and how awful everything is, and this is the final straw and I can't handle anything else.

At least, I try to say all this, but she's talking over me and trying to say kind, reassuring things to me like how when she was my age oh-so-many years ago she felt the same way and it gets better and I need to relax and just keep going and it's all going to be okay and that house (my coworker's house, where the party was held) is FULL of people who love me and care about me and will help me anyway they can, and she has a spare room at her house and if I need a place to go she'll vouge for me with her other roommates and it's only seven minutes away and everything will be okay and---

I must be the only person in the world who needs a solid twenty minutes of silence in which to cry before I can make sense of anything. I need a solid twenty minutes to just rant and rave and scream and cry and wail and get everything out before people start telling me nice things, or anything, or I can't move past the greif and the hurt and the suckiness. Otherwise, all the nice things are just noise interrupting me getting the frustration out and the saline and salt and snot and tears build up and I feel like I need to vomit and eventually I have to or I won't be able to get anything out and it just builds and builds and builds until I snap because I just cant fucking process anything unless I get uit out and fucking EVERY time this week I hit that point where I go on a greif binge,s omething or someone interrupted me and I'm still building all this tension and the boyfriend and the breakup and the brother and the job and the school and the fucking apartment and ASKMFGV EGMWOERMOPIJGMCOGJLA,SFGOXQJIWRGMRTXQOP,FUMRC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

~~~

Five cigarettes later, my brother shows up. We don't really talk.

When H left, I gave her a hug and apologized for banishing her from my greif fest. Then I apologize to the bride and groom for making a scene, and to my coworker's and L's family for imposing, but they let me stay the night so I don't have to go back to my apartment until it's light outside.

My brother goes home.

I turn off my phone and go to sleep in L's room on her bed.

When I wake up to hitch a ride with my coworker to work in the morning (our shifts start at the same time) L isn't there and I feel abandoned.

Work sucks. After work, I'm texting another friend back home, who then goes off on a tangent about now that I'm single I should give him a shot.

Again, did you not fucking listen just now when I told you I can't handle anything else? Also, your friend just dumped me. A week ago. You need to stop. And the answer is no. Especially since you're being pushy, and if you don't cut it the fuck out I won't talk to you anymore.

Wish I could pull that line on L, but I'm her only friend here, and she's mine.

So, if you've seen me on le Facebook this week and I seemed really down, that's what happened.

I feel really numb and vulnerable.

If I was sitting aked in the snow outside my house right now, right across the street from the fucking projects, nothing the weather or the gangsters or druggies or neighbors could do to me would shut me down any harder than the last week did.

I feel really guilty that while I was having a great time at the party, no one was at my house to scare away the theives.

I feel confused and sickened that they left the damn tv, computers, phones, xbox, . . . everything just sitting there. They took some folders off my brother's desk, and a lockbox that had some silver coins in it.

But they didn't take anything you'd think they would have taken.

I feel like...

I don't know.

Nothing, I guess.

~~

I talked to a friend of mine last night, trying to get everything in my head sorted out, and I found out that Poffle spent Valentine's day with all my favorite people back home. I found out that my favorite lady cooked people food, and they all sat around being their dorky, lovable selves and had a good time. I heard it was fun, that people got along, that even though Poffle was there with the cutie-pie he may or may not be angling his dick towards at the moment and the guy he bought the sword for and Poffle was trying too hard to be liked, it wasn't a bad evening.

That broke my heart.

Please don't replace me.