Thursday, August 26

Day 10129: Hitting Rock Bottom

Last night…
I fit into my “fat” clothes again.
I threw out half my closet.
I bawled like a babe – again – for the five trillionth time this month.
I wanted to spray paint “DROP DEAD, PIG SCUM” on the soon to be ex-stepdad’s bedroom wall.
I fought Triscuit and Wai-sum for the spray paint can and lost. Same with the magic markers.
I did not do it for the attention, as Triscuit so eloquently put it. I couldn’t care less about the attention.
I couldn’t care less about anything right now.
I can’t believe I let myself get fat again.
I really want to hurt the soon to be ex-stepdad.
I don’t understand why everyone else says that the best thing to do is to leave him alone.
I don’t care if he’s suffering in silence. I WANT RETRIBUTION… I DEMAND REVENGE.
I can’t drink anymore. Getting drunk is anti-productive, and is making me weepy.
I have a shitload of crap and I have no idea where any of it is going to go in my freakishly small 480 sq ft studio.
I have no place to go after Saturday.
I have no idea how in the name of all that it holy that I would have so much stuff.
I don’t plan on eating ever again.

I hit rock bottom and I’m not happy about it.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Not everyone says leave him alone.