The Diary of a Bitch

Are You Proud of Me, Ma?

Wednesday September 23, 2015

Last night I had counseling, so you can imagine how much that sucked. She (my therapist/counselor) wanted me to watch Mark's vlog with her. So I did. And it was awful. She didn't say a word, which was unusual for her. She just handed me the box of tissues off the desk and patted my shoulder every now and then. Mark's a mess. He looks like he hasn't slept... He looks exactly how I feel. And when I voiced that, my therapist asked me why. She asked me why I cared so much about the death of someone I never got to know on a personal level. I told her she wouldn't understand. She also declared that having a picture of Daniel as my wallpaper was a horrible idea. She said I needed to erase him until I was moved on. I didn't say much after that... How could I tell her what I feel about Daniel without seeming totally crazy?

When I got home, I was alone, as usual, and so I cried. But when I got to the kitchen, I found my favorite meal on the stove. Feta cheese and spinach perogies (Polish food, kinda like a ravioli filled with things including- but not limited to- mashed potatoes, cheese, sour cream, onions, etc,) and shrimp alfredo. It was heavenly. My mother had made these things, for me, before going to work at the hospital. It's never good to eat when you're sad, so I took a cold shower and put Game Grumps on in the living room before delving into my feast.

I'd forgotten how good food tastes when you don't plan on regurgitating it later.

Unfortunately that bliss didn't last long. My sister came home, drunk, and told me she was happy to see me stuffing my face again. (Even though The Incident happened last year). I asked her, not very nicely, to never say that again. An argument ensued. Drunken arguments are no fun. If you're sober, it's easier to win. But if you're my sister, you don't give up. There is no end. She just kept yelling and yelling. It was like an air horn being blasted at the side of your head. Eventually I just left the house and took a long walk. When I came back she was passed out in her room.

Also, I started working on a story last night. The chapters will be short, but I'm hoping the updates will be frequent. I'll post it next week some time. (As if I have any readers anyway...)

Today has been... Better. I found a picture that can make me smile whenever I see it. That's one of the reasons I started watching Jack: he always makes me smile. He's also very positive about things and has a unique way of making me feel welcome. I haven't told my therapist about him though, she'd probably just tell me I'm being dramatic. I also watched Mark's vlog twice over and sighed my way through some Cyndago videos. I feel almost okay. The beast of depression isn't far behind me- but as long as I keep moving forward and holding onto every opportunity to just relax- I can carry on. I will carry on. Hopefully it's getting easier for you guys too.

At lunch today, some guy sat next to me and asked me why I always looked so sad. I showed him my wallpaper, which is of Daniel, and has the inscription:

RIP DANIEL
1994-2015

He said oh, and told me he was sorry. He then asked if he was my boyfriend. I almost smiled. Not because I wanted Daniel to be my boyfriend, but because this boy who came up to me out of nowhere was subtly hinting that he was curious about my relationship status. This boy, whom I'd never seen before, has sandy blond hair and light green eyes. Freckles dust his cheeks, giving him a sort of glow. After I told him that Daniel was just someone I knew, he introduced himself as Lucas, Luke for short. I shook his hand and told him to call me Sam. He nodded, told me he'd catch me later, and disappeared into the crowd. That was the nicest thing I've done in months.

I don't expect Luke to return tomorrow- I can't let my hopes get up. Sure he was cute and I'd love to get to know him, but I'm afraid to let him see the real me. I'm afraid to let anyone see... So I can't let him in. I can play nice, maybe go on a date or two, but eventually he'll tire of me.

Everyone does.