We are not the broken clichés you want us to be anymore. We have transcended beyond the "Good Girl ~ Bad Boy" boxes they tried to put us in. We are so far beyond all that now, that we are finally free of all those stereotypes.
The story of us is no...
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After all the fun of the last week, it's thankfully been a very quiet weekend of nothing new. No annoying boys around to bug, and nothing to do but binge-watch Stranger Things on Netflix. I find myself sleeping a little more than usual, and drifting off slightly when I am awake. I'm hoping that this is just the after-effects of the "way too strong tranquilizer cocktail" that they gave me as it wears off, and not the early onset of narcolepsy.
I've had to face up to the fact that I had a momentary break with my emotional reality for a minute. It also turns out that I was also PMSing pretty hard, so I have the added joy of wearing my Wednesdays best around the house. However, I do not want to believe that these things are interconnected in any way. Because it seems too stereotypically easy to blame my momentary mental meltdown on my "girl stuff". But I guess I will just have to wait and see what happens next month, in order to find out if this insanity is gonna be a regular thing or not?
Thankfully, my mother/best friend is not around too much, "being there for me". As she ends up working both Saturday and Sunday, showing open houses all day long for The Evil Empire. In order to make up for missing work on Thursday and Friday because of me. But even though she is gone she is not forgotten, because she is calling and texting every twenty minutes to make sure I am still solid. So it almost seems like she never really left. Sadly she is the only one that calls me or texts me the entire weekend to see how I am doing.
I know that I am not popular by any means, maybe contact cool at best? But still I thought at least one or two of my friendlies would drop an "R-U-OK? on me. So I guess I am even less cared about than I thought I wasn't. Even Stevie has not answered any of my ten texts all weekend long, and that boy practically lives on his phone. I am hoping it's only because he doesn't have any cell service up in the mountains. Or wherever the hell the savages go to ground when they are hiding from crazy gurl?
When my mom comes home from work on Sunday, she brings takeout pizza. Just like the old days, when it was just the two of us living alone in Towne. She tries to talk to me several times about things neither one of us cares about, but never once about my meltdown. I think it's still too fresh for her to process that I am now officially broken. It seems like without someone around to suggest an opinion to her, she is probably at a loss as to what is the right thing to say under the circumstances. Sad to say, I absolutely understand that feeling. Because without any more answers, I kind of feel the same way. So in the end, we settle for watching some lame chick channel cheating flicks before going our separate ways to bed.
Of course, I don't go to bed right away, because now I have homework to do. So I take out the old handy Grief Chart of healing I am supposed to be reflecting on, and stare back at the big smile of healing facing me. One look at the big ass stupid smile of grief and I can tell right away it's just a bunch of bullshit busy work. Probably meant to keep the insanity inside me occupied and distracted.
