Being alone, it's all right sometimes. Usually, I handle it all right. I ran into Steve Jackson at Indigo Tuesday, and he had me tell him the tale of Chris' betrayal, since apparently Chris isn't proud enough of his achievement to talk of it himself. Ever since then, it's just been a little harder to deal with. I honestly do try very hard not to think about it, to just focus on MY life and what I'm doing with it now. I'll never be happy if I can't let go of things, but... everyone seems to want to remind me of what happened. Kaley told me she saw Jessi at the gym. Wow, that's nice. She'll go to the gym to look good for Chris, that traitorous, childish bitch, but she sat on her ass getting fat with me. All the times I wanted to get her to exercise with me, and all she really needed to motivate her was that filthy fuck? Why did she bother with me, seriously? If Jessi wanted someone to whom loyalty means nothing, for whom bathing is optional, someone who can't even comprehend the meaning of passion, then why the hell did she spend so much time holding me back? That statement is admittedly a bit unfair, as it's no one's fault but my own that she DID hold me back, but still, what the hell? I don't even care WHY she's at the gym. I just hate being reminded that she's still here, that she's so fucking close all the time. What makes her think she has the right to continue hurting me with her existence? She needs to go back to her fucking hole in Englewood and never show her face again. Let her live in the heat, the filth, feeling inferior to everyone she knows. It's better than she deserves, having a place to crawl back to when she needs. Does my anger actually make me a bad person? Am I not justified in it? I guess that's not the point, is it? I just want to be happy and content, and it's not going to happen as long as this shit makes me angry. It's not going to stop making me angry until it stops hurting, though. It's been over four months now, and when Kaley simply mentioned she saw Jessi, I almost threw up. I haven't cried in... I don't know. More than a month, I think. It's hard to keep track of time now. I got to the point where I remembered it happening, but not entirely what it felt like anymore. I remember again. I don't like it. What am I supposed to do here? Employment hasn't made me happy. It's just distracted me and thrown some scotch tape on my self-esteem. I get the feeling school's not going to make me feel much better, either. I'm just too damn lonely sometimes. I still remember what it felt like crawling into bed and getting up as close to her as possible. I remember the fabric of her shirt and pajama pants, how far her skin would depress when I put my arm around her. I remember the smell, the temperature, all the little noises, all the obnoxiously loud noises she made when she snored. It's fucking haunting having all these memories so clear in my mind. It feels like someone died. Maybe that's why it still hurts; my brain still hasn't worked out that she didn't love me and that she isn't just missing. This fucking life... sometimes, I wonder why I thought it was a good idea to continue.

Well, It's been a few weeks now. I've settled into work a bit more, gotten better at my job, more comfortable with my territory there. I had a shitload of hours this week, and while it upset me at first to see the schedule, I wasn't really bothered by it. I even stayed extra late one night to help Matt wire some shit in the store. Incidentally, I know how to wire a cat5 cable now. Bitchin'.

Today was really stressful, but it's ended pretty well. I nutted up and asked this girl at Books-a-Million if she'd like to go to dinner with me some night and she said she'd love to and gave me her number. Kyle's girlfriend magically found her on Facebook with just her first name. Turns out that girl and I have one mutual friend: Amy Whicker. Why is the universe such a weird fucking place? And why won't it let me just appreciate a bit of sincerity every now and then? Well, to be fair, that girl and I didn't know the other knew Amy. She probably still doesn't know I know Amy. Still, it cheapens the experience, and this makes me sad. I'd like just once to meet someone I'm not already somehow associated with.

Anyway, I'm tired and this has been a weird fucking day. I have the next two days off, so I think it's time to spend a little of my paycheck and get my car worked on. Adios, future me.

Work's been... something, I guess. The last two days, my enthusiasm for it kind of dropped, probably due to the remodel giving me very little workspace and separating me from the tech shop. At least it's only temporary. I got paid the other day. Even with as little as I got in commissions, I'm making more hourly than I did doing papers (even after taxes), so... that's cool, I guess. I bought myself that Penny Arcade print and some chai tea mix. The tea is good. I haven't gotten the print yet.

Girls have been... girly, I guess. I don't really know what I want from any of them. Company, I suppose. I don't want to sleep with any of them because I feel like my number's too high already. What would happen if I met the girl of my dreams and had to tell her I've fucked like twenty chicks? It's gonna make her feel less special. I have to keep the number down. Amy should not have been number 7, but... I guess it's fitting.

My mood improved drastically for about a week. Now, I go from being either hyper/excited about something to being really angry to just fucking depressed. Hyper is fun and angry sucks, but it's still better than being depressed. I still dream about them. I still imagine the things they must be doing together. Every day, I have to think of this. Every fucking day, it continues to hurt, takes all the light I've worked so hard to gather in myself.

I'm tired of this. I don't want it, no matter what lesson I should be learning here. I just want to forget already.

Well, I could say I've simply been too busy to update this lately, but that would be a lie. I've just been much busier than I was before. I still have plenty of free time.

I'm getting better at my job. I haven't got everything memorized or anything like that, but I don't feel like I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing anymore. Owen, Kayt, our boss Matt, and I are going to see 9 tomorrow. I've never gone to the movies with my boss before. This will be interesting. Oh, and Owen looked up our numbers yesterday and I am apparently somehow the number 1 service writer so far for the pay period in labor, I think. My commissions are third, but that might have a bit to do with me not writing my name on half the shit I was selling. That's pretty cool, right? My customers generally all seem to appreciate my personality, too. I don't think they expect someone to be straightforward with them when they come in.

I actually do think I like my job. A lot of nights, I have trouble coming home, though. Stupid Nicole texted me the other night while I was at work to say "I saw Jessi and Chris LOL," as if I wanted to hear about it. I don't even want to know they exist. I especially don't want to have to keep thinking of them together. I'm not over it and I don't want to deal with it. Unfortunately, the thought has been prevalent since that night. I almost went to a party with Amy and her boyfriend last night after work just so I wouldn't have to be at home. Instead, I watched Metalocalypse with Dani B. This was a much better option. It's as if Amy really doesn't understand how fucked up it is that we slept together while she had a boyfriend, not even to mention that she never told him and refuses to dump him. Things... are not going to end well for her. Dani seemed like she was a lot better now than she was last time I saw her, though, which was cool. I have to say, I think she's cuter now than she used to be... but I just don't think it prudent to attempt anything with her. Discounting how fucked up my head is at the moment, I think I'd end up hurting her. Just not really a great idea, you know? At least I actually enjoy hanging out with her. Makes it a lot easier not to try and fool around.

Two nights ago, I got off work and just... was on the cusp of crying again for no reason in particular. I still had to get gas money from Dad, too. When I called to ask for it, I asked him if I could come over to Paula's for some food and so I wouldn't have to go home. When I got there, I didn't even think about the food. I just sat there being glad I wasn't at home. Dad got up, made me something to eat, and grabbed me a Mountain Dew. It was just one of those things that seems so sincere, you know? He can pay bills until he's blue in the face, but it's the little gestures like that that make me feel loved.

I guess before I post this, I should mention I started my job already. I wanted to update my LJ, but it just seemed easier to copy/paste this letter I wrote in response to one of Danielle's. It's just faster and gets the tone of the last few days across well, I think. Anyway, here it is:

Ah, you get it. Do you understand now why I didn't want to destroy it? I mean, it's not an amazing drawing, not even close. I do feel, however, that it accurately depicts my affection for you at the time. Sort of a reminder that my heart hasn't always been tainted and useless, you know? I was going to ask if Mike liked it, but I thought it might sound like an asshole's question, as if I were taunting him. So yeah, you can keep it. I'd prefer you keep it than get rid of it, at least. Plus, it's unsigned, so you guys don't have to associate it with me. No one likes having good things spoiled for them.

I felt shitty just because like... two years ago, I'd have said my life was awesome. I'd just gotten my AS degree and I went to Europe, for god's sake. My life was an adventure. I just... haven't done anything worthwhile since. I thought being with Jessi was worthwhile. I thought I'd learned so much just by being with her, that I was going to build a family with her. It turns out I was just wrong. Every good thing I think I learn ends up being wrong, but I'm always right about the bad stuff. I can't stand my life anymore. I don't even like being who I am. I'm always scared, always sad; I always have to think of everything I've lost and I see nothing to gain. The only thing that's kept me from just dying is my indignation over the whole thing. Seriously, what did I do to deserve this? I've done bad things in my life, but nothing to warrant this. Who did I hurt? Whose life did I destroy to deserve what's been done to me? I realize I'm not even close to perfect, but... this just isn't right. It isn't balanced. You, though? You're happy. Your life may be more complicated than you'd like, but you're filling the role you always wanted to. You fit where you are, and you seem content. If someone asked how your life's been, you could give them some kind of normal answer. When people ask me, my first thought is to beg them to comfort me, to tell me it's not my fault and that I'll be okay if I just endure a while more.

When you apologized to me for the things you'd done, do you know I started to cry? I was cruel to you after the breakup. I felt like you deserved it, that I was justified. It just made it easier to deal with the loss to be angry about it. But there you were, simply telling me you were sorry. Not making excuses, not saying "well, I was wrong, but you were an asshole." Just... sorry. My mother's never apologized for the things she's done to me. Dad's never said he's sorry for killing my dog or for leaving me alone for three years. No one's ever really told me they were sorry for what they'd done. They might have tried to make up for it in other ways, but never would they admit they'd done wrong. I think I'm just ranting now, but I wanted to express how much that meant to me.

I apologize for the somber tone of this letter. I've been really depressed since I started work, and I really don't know why. I actually kind of like my job. I just... don't like coming home. It's very lonely here in the home we shared. Chris asked me a few days before she left me why there were always Q-tips on the bathroom counter lately. I told him that when she and I showered together, the first person out would lay out the Q-tips for the other. We hadn't showered together in a week or two, though, since she was obviously no longer in love with me. I didn't know this was why at the time, of course. Anyway, I would leave the Q-tips there in a little X shape when I got out of the shower at night so she'd have them in the morning. So when Chris asked me why they were always there, I told him "because I love Jessi." And that miserable fuck still had to take her from me. That traitorous bastard, he didn't deserve a thing he had even before all this. I still miss him, too. I still miss Jessi. I loved them both more than they obviously ever understood.

Jesus, this is turning into one of my LiveJournal posts. Actually, I haven't updated in a few days. Maybe I'll just copy/paste this as my newest post.

It's only been my birthday for about six hours, but it's already been weird. I spent my night with Dani B, who I haven't seen in probably three years or so. She's a much more broken person than she used to be, and it makes me sad. The world simply hasn't been kind to her. Still cute, though, which I guess is definitely worth something.

After she left, I lied in my driveway with a stray cat whom I strongly suspect of having a home and just being exceptionally dirty. I talked to the cat about life, the universe, and generally everything that one can talk to a cat about in an hour. I fed the cat, gave it water, and eventually came back inside.

After my shower and such, I discovered a giant bull ant on my leg. I obviously shook it off onto the floor, where I stepped on it. It writhed a bit, but it was stuck to the tile, so I left it to die while I folded my clothes and changed my laundry over. When I returned, the ant was gone. I found the durable bastard crawling underneath my chair, apparently searching for cover. I decided to pick him up and put him in the toilet. What a tough little trooper. Still, it was an odd experience.

Oh, and Owen took me to see District 9 shortly after I woke up today, which was still the 28th. It was an amazing film, seriously. I fucking loved it. I had no idea it would be so good.

Tonight was far less satisfying. I went to Books-a-Million again to read some more Darkly Dreaming Dexter. While I was reading, I began to think about how I should tell Jessi in what ways it differs from the show. I don't have a Jessi anymore. I don't have anyone to tell at all.

I encountered a similar problem the other night, while I was enjoying a drive in the rain, I realized I had no one to share it with.

When I came home tonight, I was forced to admit to myself that I miss Jessi. That I miss Chris. I don't know what I did to either of them to make them leave me like this. My ego broke and I started to cry. I recovered a little, then cried even harder. It became a little frantic. I banged my head on the desk a couple of times. Oak was a bad choice. It doesn't really bend much. Nor does it seem inclined to break. It just hurt. Now I have a lump on my forehead, I'm nauseous, lonely, spent and angry.

I don't know why, but my stomach has been a complete asshole to me lately. Probably because my diet is horrible.

I think I'm going to take some Tylenol and slip into a scalding bath and try to rebuild my shell.

Oh, and the first person to wish me a happy birthday so far was Danielle Berkowitz, even though she's two days early. She still remembered the date, so I guess that's kind of nice.

Tonight, I turned in my chair and looked at my wall. My TV, my floor, my shoes... They all looked different. New, even. I liked this, so I looked at my bed. Unfortunately, as soon as I'd realized what felt good about seeing these things in a different light, it slowly became tainted. But for that short while, I actually felt kind of free.

Earlier, I took a walk in the rain while I smoked a Black & Mild. It was dramatic and pleasant.

I also worked out my arms decently. It felt good.

I sat around the house the first half of my day. I watched some new Dexter, went stir crazy, and drove to Books-a-Million, where I read the first chapter and a half of Darkly Dreaming Dexter before they closed. The girls who work there are cute. That's nice.

I then went to the Indigo Room, simply because Kailyn was there and she's fun. I wandered a bit when I got there, just sort of exploring shit and seeing who all was there. I ran into Eric Chobrda, which was actually cool. Scott was there, too, of course. It's weird to imagine that I had come to consider Eric my friend, too, but it was nice seeing him again. We talked for a short while, and I eventually found myself at a table filled almost entirely with people I don't know. That worked out, though, because it then became a table filled with people I DO know. Scott got me a beer, which was nice, and I had pretzels and talked about Star Wars and Dragon Ball to a stranger. It was a good time.

I still wish that I could find a place to go dance, though. Just somewhere I can blend in and remain anonymous and just... have a fucking party. Like, no one dances at Indigo. They're all too cool for it, I guess.

When I drove home, as I normally do, I sang. This wouldn't be worth mentioning except I feel like I did a really good job. I wish it had been karaoke night at Indigo, because I probably would have done it, and it would have been done well. Oh well, there will be plenty of chances for me to chicken out in the future.

Tonight also marks the second time I've been able to handle alcohol. I had some Crown Royal at Kyle's last time I was there, and I had beer at Indigo tonight, and I didn't get depressed either time. I mean, I'm depressed now, but that's simply because I'm at home and no one's telling me they think I'm amazing. This drunk girl at Indigo did tell me I look like "that guy from Clerks 2, but less nerdy and more attractive," so... eh? I take that as a win.

Today, I woke up late. Actually, I woke up early and slept in late. Oh, joy.

I wanted to leave the house, but I had nowhere worth going, and then I was like "wait, I haven't hung out with Mike in forever," so I went there. I even ate tasty dinner there. Sausage was involved. We hung out, played some shit, talked a bit about life, and then I came home.

When I got home, I was greeted by the smell of cleanliness. How odd. I put my comforter back over my window (Kitty knocked it down while I was asleep earlier), got on here, and turned on some old Linkin Park. There's no one online to talk to. I had a bunch of Facebook updates in my email, so I went there and was smacked with a picture of Amy with her boyfriend. To clarify, it's a really cute picture of Amy and her boyfriend. The kind of picture a person who's happy in their relationship would have framed. It really is adorable.

And it makes me get that delightful little pit in my stomach I've come to associate with that feeling of hopeless inadequacy so often present in my ponderings of my future. It's not like I hate Amy, or even that I'm angry with her. I'm just... angry. I feel like I'm a child again, wondering why girls give so much attention to that brainless blond boy across the room. Unfortunately, this guy isn't brainless, though it must be said he's not as intuitive as would be good for him. Master of five languages, perhaps... but what good is a human being who can't make their girlfriend feel loved? Of course, this is a question I could pose to myself. Maybe it isn't Paul's fault. Maybe Amy is messed up in a way similar to Jessi, incapable of receiving emotions properly. Of course, if this were true, she'd have been oblivious to my affection. Or maybe I really was just a number.

I could go on like this forever, I think, but I have crunches and curls to do, showers to take, jerks to be offed, and NyQuil to be drunk.