November 4, 1992 • Seattle • فيزا
hours off the road: about fifteen and a half
I'm home! And the clock now says that it's well over midnight, so this means that this fucking shitty day is coming closer to a fucking long overdue end. Finally if I must add, because my body is broken, my head kills, my heart is shattered, and tiredness is really fucking doing me head in. I have resolutions to go to bed soon, in fact I've taken my makeup off, showered, washed and styled my hair, put on my pj's, and downed a tablet of Advil to feel less crushed... and although the ibuprofen shot is kicking in and making my headache better, I feel like my brain is popping out of my skull because I'm still thinking that there's a chance that my ex boyfriend (whom I'm still madly in love with) and my best friend are fucking.
How fucking lame of them to do this to me when I'm at my absolute worst? How fucking lame of Sean to try and move on from me by bedding the woman I think of as my ride or die sister from another mister? How fucking lame of her to choose to have him for the first time the moment I was gone for good? How sweet of Cuntrell, to have brought this up to my attention with such a preoccupied tone in his voice ? How fucking stupid of me to end up feeling bitter over the fact that the man I'm broken up for good with is enjoying the company of another woman? Why did that woman have to be my best friend, to even begin with? Couldn't it have been like... one of the many girls who watch the shows from the side of the stage with a vip pass glued to their tits? If he really had to forget me now that we're no longer together, why couldn't he do it in a way that'd hurt me less? I mean, I can't blame nor judge him, if he feels like he has to stick it inside someone else to try and forget me. Men are animals, and that applies to rather chill men like Sean too. Sleeping with another woman now that we're broken up is acceptable, standard behaviour even... and although it hurts me beyond belief to know that he's out there feeling something with a different woman, I want to stay rational because I already knew it would've happened sooner or later. But why did he have it to do that soon? Like just twelve hours after I left? Why with my best friend? Why? I get it, he's hurt in his own way too, Bess is a groupie, she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, she's everyone's type and would never say no to sex with a music man, in fact she's had three quarters of Alice in Chains inside of her over the last few weeks... but why did it have to be my music man? Why did it have to be the only Alice dude whom she'd never been with before? Ugh. This is so wrong, so wrong on so many levels, from both of them's sides, that I don't fucking know where to start to catalyse my pain, my disgust and my anger to even begin with.
I don't know one thing, as you can tell... but I'm starting to think that I must try and forget him too. If he can move on and forget me within just hours and with so much ease, this means that if I wrap my mind around it, I can do about the same. Not by sleeping around with someone else, I don't want anyone to get anywhere near my body, at least not this soon, I respect him and myself too much for that... but maybe I should just start to see new people and see if I can feel a spark with another man. I thought I would've spent the night out to see if I'd have a chance of picking up some guy to chat with at some club or at some bar, to push away the thought of the love of my life and my best friend playing one on one ... but in the end, I didn't. I met my best friend from university, Mariam, right in the basement of the lady who gives bellydance lessons, she invited me for dinner over at her place after the lesson, and it's in her living room that we spent about the entire evening. The achievement of the day so far is that I've been able to have dinner and act unproblematic about it, and it's a slight achievement in itself. But reasonably, what is having cous cous in my system, if not plain, short term relief for the crappy way I'm feeling?
Eeeek, I wish I could throw up now, because that's how disgusted I'm feeling... but sadly for myself, I can't feel the gag reflex, I'm too afraid of sticking two fingers up my throat and vomiting, and this means that I won't be able to get rid of the tangle in my stomach unless I learn how to cope with it. But reasonably, how can I cope with the thought that while I'm here trying not to cry my heart out over the bunch of roses that Sean delivered me through his dad earlier today... he's in Canada, two hours ahead of me and post concert kinda euphoric? Boning my best friend and making her scream his fucking name like I used to until yesterday afternoon ?
