bleh

i’ve ruined myself. i knew i wasn’t feeling up to par friday and saturday, but i still had to go to the pub, smoke like a chimney and scream like a banshee yesterday. i’m an idiot.
getting out of bed this moring was a monumental task. i’ve already taken headache meds and consumed two cups of (medicinal, you understand) coffee, neither of which have done anything to elevate my mood. i’m only at work because it’s payroll monday. as soon as i’m finished, i’m going home. to bed. to sleep. the worst part? i didn’t have time to wash my hair, so i smell like day-old smoke. ick.
yesterday was a strange mix of childish delight and mature insights. we three, sitting at “our table” in the corner, discussed some serious issues regarding relationships, abuse, money, alcoholism, health & fitness. meghan revealed more about her past abusive relationship. mark went up a peg or two in my estimation when he described to me how, once he met meg, there were no other women for him. we discussed how much of a loser they both think jason is. “why were you dating him?” they asked. “i wasn’t dating him,” i answered, “we were just sleeping together.”
i’m not accustomed to serious conversation, especially when it deals with me. most of my life i’ve managed to avoid having to discuss how i truly, deep-down feel about things. i’m petrified of laying myself bare in that way. at least i acknowledge it now and force myself to step ahead, even if it is only a baby step.
i just realized that in the almost two months since i changed my calling card number, i’ve heard from tyler twice. both times asking me to phone him. on one hand, i’m glad he wants to talk to me; but, on the other, i’m pissed that he’s still not willing to spend his own money to do it. god, i’m such a doormat. fuck it. he can phone me. i’ve been phoning him for six years. then again, maybe i shouldn’t be making decisions when i’m this cranky and miserable.
i feel the urge to work out. how nutso is that?