#27 or "In love with a dying man"

No one ever should have let me become an adult.
It was never fully explained to me, what all this adult business consisted of. I don't want this mess.
I don't remember clicking through any terms and conditions.
If I'd known it was going to be  like this, I would have opted out of adulthood.
Wait, what? That's not an option?
Then I should have been euthanized at 18.
18 is coincidentally the age I got pneumonia. I fell very ill the day of my high school graduation. Most of the next few weeks is blacked out, I was so fevered and unconscious. That should have been a sign. That was the universe trying to euthanize me before shit got real. And what did I do but opt out of oblivion.
Oh, so naive.

At some point I started seeing a character from a book.
No, I wasn't hallucinating. That's just the best way to describe him.
For a time, my favorite person was a home-schooled, cross-eyed graphic designer named Huckleberry who had 9 siblings.
ONLY ME.
What can I say? I appreciate the ridiculous on an unprecedented level.

Also, he made me think I had become terrible at sex.
Sex with him was always super athletic and sweaty. SO sweaty.
Dude, I hate to sweat.
Neither of us could ever get off, really.
In the end, developed this stellar idea that he can simply exit the world of relationships and pop back in whenever he wants to.
Selfish much?
This bitch is way too needy for that shit to fly.
Son, if I say, "I need you to be here with a cheesecake. This is not a drill," you damn well better be at my door in 15 with some strawberry swirl creation before I hit that downward spiral.
'Cause let's be honest, my downward spirals can kinda ruin people.
Like myself.

Sometimes I still want to have sex with him though.
Shh, don't tell.

In October, I was a bridesmaid in one of my best friend's weddings.
She gave me three rules:
   1. You cannot be drunk.
   2. You cannot be high.
   3. You cannot bring Austin. (Brother-husband)
Shockingly, I complied!
Later when we had a misunderstanding on what time our girl date was, she yelled, "THIS is why you weren't maid of honor!"
Somedays I can't tell if I'm really as big of a loser as I think I am, or if I'm just friends with a bunch of assholes.
Probably a 50/50 split.
Good enough for me.

My attorney has been staying with me for a few months.
I've viewed it as an extended sleepover with my favorite playmate.
Because I think of things the same way a 7-year-old would.
To her credit, she  was sharing my tiny one-bedroom.
But to be fair to me, I ensured that we never ran out of weed.
Drugs have got to count for something, right?
Right?!
I don't want to live in a world where they don't.
I mean if they didn't, I'd never get to read about beheadings in disco clubs and mass graves of partially acid-eaten victims in desolate desert pits.
And I eat that shit right up.


#27 - Have unprotected sex with a stranger you met stumbling drunk in the middle of the street who entices you with cocaine.

#28 or "To infinity but not beyond"

It's been nearly a year since I moved from borderline white trash to hollow mediocrity.
It's been even longer since I've posted; I feel a touch of mental constipation from the neglect.
Just a flash of an existential cramp.
But you know, you've got to smoke that shit off.
(HA! If only it were quite that easy.)
My neglect is due to the selfish tendency to want to deny one's worst mistakes, to the inability to resist the temptation to spin the story to remove my character of that weighty blame.
But I'm not a character. I'm an actual person.
I'm only now understanding that I am not a character in a book.

I moved to Austin and wasn't able to give anyone much notice.
Because I do have an at least sardine-sized soul, I am able to feel bad about that. It nags at me like a recurring ingrown hair along my bikini line, the elastic of my panties rubbing against this tender, swollen, unsexy ingrown hair.
But I was drowning in debt and this job paid significantly more so it was hard to pass up.

Whatever. This isn't the first time people have ferociously loathed me.
Realistically, it won't be the last.

Like my adoptive brother always says, "If you're not pissing some people off, you're doing it wrong."


#28 - Move to a new city with no place to live and give everyone - including yourself - three days notice max.