~...Dysmorphophobia...~

Falling Into Insignificant Lies And Living Through Falsities...Everything Is Chaotic And Delectable Distorted Imagery... "They tend to be suspicious, bristly, paranoid-type people with huge egos they push around like some elephantiasis victim with his distended testicles in a wheelbarrow terrified no doubt that some skulking ingrate of a clone student will sneak into his very brain and steal his genius work." ~WSB

donderdag, augustus 28, 2008

Francis Farmer Incarnate...?

After much time off, I finally have a job. That doesn't make me little miss responcibility tho as I still drink and stay up...sorta late (I do still make it to work after much fussing and fighting with myself to get up!).
Sunday was rather odd and showed that I might been harboring some really intense stress...other than the fact that I have been using several bad methoods to put myself to sleep for the past week and a half. The day was fine as I was heading to a morbid photoshoot which ended with the vehicle I was in to turn around and miss out on one Hell of a day.
That night I went to the casino with two of my buddies. All was fine, booze train was fueling up (kisses for a pretty boy). We took our winnings and went to the community pub. I had 2 shots and a beer (I doubt I drank much of the beer) and my world felt like shit. Seeing as I took an ativan, had some tea and took drinks back at the casino like they were going out of style. I awoke in the washroom (a typical place for me to sleep) by an odd sounding woman...because she sounded like a guy I'm not fond of from work and kept calling me hunny. This questionable woman decided to bug the fuck out of me. I'm sure "she" was trying to help me as I asked to escape out the backdoor which turned out to be a pitch black cement room.
In health class I learned about rooms where prostitutes were locked up, drugged up and whored out for days at a time and that, unfortunately, was my first thought. Then I imagined that that was going to be my fate as I was incapable of saving myself. The "lady" returned and asked me some questions, I demanded to see one of my buddies (who is built almost like a bodyguard). The door closed and I went into an uncontrolable hysterical crying fit, speaking in enibriated jibberish.
I think the pretty boy ended up taking me out of the pub towards the vehicle we arrived in. Instead of getting in the vehicle and further avoiding this twisted little scene, the ground outside of the vehicle was considered more suitable in my mind as I curled up to try to sleep. Apparently I was talking about how I was going to die and basically looked like something horrible happened to me. Yeah, so explaining that I was just having a substance induced panic attack was impossible and far from on my mind which set off my bodyguard buddy as he went stormed back into the pub to figure out who did what to me in the "rape room." He returned and I refused to get into his vehicle so my buddies walked my drunk, crazy ass home.
So without a cellphone as an alarm, feeling surprisingly fine, I managed to wake myself up, shower and make it to work on time. I just looked like a psychotic clown when I looked in the mirror when I woke up...yikes...
Yesterday I had a dentist appointment. I was exhausted from work and rushed out the door to make it there on time. After the hygenist was done freezing my mouth (fillings are "fun") and I was just lying there by myself, I was on the verge of tears. The wear and tear of my life (as there is MUCH I haven't said) left me feeling weak and helpless. If I had a mental breakdown right there, I think I would have just came home and crashed. Instead I visited some friends, had a little to drink and picked up their stresses.

Fuck...now I have to explain (again) somehow that I'm not that into my recent ex. He wants me to move in with him and asked about us when I SWORE there was no us. He dropped an L-bomb on me after only knowing him for a month and a half (that's not including the time he ignored me for a month because he sincerely believed I slept with his roommate and didn't confront me about it. Yeah, real mature). After identifying him as my ex and as my friend and making things clear when I broke our fling off some odd time ago, I would hope he got the picture. Also, not returning his affections and mentioning how I fancy our female friend. Apparently I "came around" without knowing it. I don't get it.

I don't know what's going on anymore...the chaos storm is up an going again. Since I can't stand this surreal reality, I'm hoping that some of the strange good stuff comes to fruition. I was told that a photographer would like to have a personal photoshoot with me and my pretty girl as we didn't quite make it to the sunday affair. This would be fun and if I'm REALLY lucky, it would be a great opportunity to maybe get out there (if the photographer isn't just a perverted hack...otherwise it will just be amusing. I should be more bothered...oh well).

Uhg...breathe, sleep and dream of the unobtainable...