Hi, I'm Kurt. A binge-drinking, pill-popping disco diva with a heart of platinum and an appetite for self-destruction.
Welcome to Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 1 of 2).
Adapted from a collection of nightly...
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February 19
I had the strangest dream about RX last night. I woke up and intended to write it down, but fell back asleep. I barely remember it, but I'm pretty sure the dream was about us reconnecting. I think we were getting back together? Or going for coffee? Or maybe even being sexual with one another? Whatever it was, we were together. But, something about it made me uneasy.
What's even weirder was that the next dream had me waking up from images of a heterosexual threesome that I was very involved with. I was humping my bed when I woke up. Maybe it was more of a nightmare? Either way, I got out of bed, went into my bathroom, and masturbated. It had been a while, so maybe that's been adding to my Logan frustration?
I got up at a reasonable hour today, but still spent most of the morning in bed, distracted by making Instagram videos. The other night while I was working out, I finally had a creative streak and came up with a bunch of concepts for over 20 videos. I know it sounds stupid. Like, why would making a 15-second Instagram video bring me joy? But, it's a creative outlet for me. A very unique way to express myself. More on that later.
There weren't any local jobs for me to apply to today, so I worked on some MOMENTS event stuff and then went downtown to get clothes from the Witch Cave. I'm going to be staying here at Casa Z for a little while longer, as I'm still not ready to be alone at my apartment. I want to be, but I'm not there yet.
I dropped off my Xanax prescription at the pharmacy this morning. They didn't have the pills in stock, so I'll have to get them tomorrow. Slightly annoying, because I did have a couple of moments today where I would have liked the option of the medication. Just the option, though. I'm not sure if I'm actually ready to start taking pills yet.
Once I got back to Casa Z, I worked on over ten applications for jobs in New York City. Likely futile, but I figured I would give it a shot. I need to be closer to Logan. Applying for jobs in the US is totally different than applying for jobs in Canada, by the way. It's so much more informal. Nothing but fillable forms after fillable forms on sterile, corporate websites.
The saddest thing about all of this is that, short of marriage, I won't be moving to the US anytime soon. I can't work there legally, and a visa or work permit is next to impossible for me to obtain as an unskilled worker. I'm at a point where I'm even considering asking Rowan in San Diego if she'd be down for a sham wedding. But, for what? Logan didn't contact me at all today. Again. I sit here and wonder if he even thinks of me, and then I feel like a loser because I'm going to such lengths trying to be with him when it's clearly not being reciprocated.
I don't want to reach out to Logan anymore. I don't want to initiate. On the rare occasion that we do talk, I feel like I'm inconveniencing him. That's not okay. Kurt, that is not okay. Is this situation difficult? Yes. Is it impossible? No. But, for it to work, both people in the relationship have to want it. That's a major part that's missing with us. The longer I go without talking to Logan, the more secure and confident I feel. But, I know as soon as we talk again, I'm going to feel like garbage. It'll be nothing but a short moment of happiness. A Band-Aid fix that patches me up, only to make my wounds even bloodier when Logan rips it off and ghosts on me again.
"Heartbreaker, you've got the best of me
But I just keep on coming back incessantly"
— Mariah Carey, "Heartbreaker"
I worked out after dinner and then pigged out on cookies because I was feeling low. I even thought to myself today, "Hey, I could try modeling again! If I lost enough weight, that would be a way for me to get to New York City! Then I could be near Logan and he would see how much he likes me! It's a completely brilliant plan!" Who the fuck have I become? Why am I behaving like Elle Woods trying to get into Harvard Law? I've lost so much confidence in myself and now I feel – I feel angry. Well, I feel a lot of things.
On a lighter note, though, and going back to my point about Instagram, I spent at least 30-minutes before bed going through my @yalittlenasty account. It made me so happy. The feed is such a personal representation of my life that only I can really understand. I genuinely smiled and laughed at so many of my own posts. For the first time in a while, I felt really happy. Through the videos, I remembered myself when I was in a brighter place. Maybe I wasn't even that happy in those moments, but it was sure as hell better than this. My Instagram account reminded me that I have a lot of confidence, humor, and creativity inside of me. I need to work on bringing that out again.
