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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May 16
I had some fucked-up dreams last night. Fucked-up, and really scary. Not in a slasher flick kind of way, but the ones that wake you up with an overwhelming feeling of panic and anxiety.
The main dream took place at the Toronto Eaton Centre. I was inside a strange version of the Disney Store, and it was about to close. By that, I mean they were closing up shop for good and going out of business. Somehow, I had lost my wallet. I was frantically running around the store looking for it, but nobody was helping or acknowledging me.
The next thing I knew, I was caught in a parade of adult-sized, ten-foot-tall Disney characters. They were fully grown adults, dressed in Times Square-style costumes with face holes. This included a horrifying Winnie the Pooh, and a Chevy Chase lookalike that towered over everybody – almost like a circus performer on stilts. I still can't get the image of a white-haired Chevy Chase with '80s glasses skipping toward me in an empty, carpeted Disney Store. It was fucking horrifying. I can't even remember if I found my wallet. I hate it when that happens.
Once I calmed down from whatever the hell that nightmare was, I finally got out of bed. After packing up all of my things in the hotel room, I went downstairs to join Mom and Dad for breakfast.
I've now been on my anti-depressant medication for almost two weeks. I'm not sure if they're making a huge difference, but I'm also trying not to analyze the effects that much. I don't want to create a placebo effect. However, I will say that my attitude around my parents has definitely changed. I don't freak out at them, and although I'm a little quieter sometimes, I think there has been a notable and positive improvement. That is worth everything to me, as I know that my parents have, unfortunately, always been a bit of a punching bag for me and my problems.
After breakfast, we packed up the rest of our hotel room, and then visited the Walkers' to quickly say our goodbyes. Following a few short stops in town, we hit the road. I slept a lot of the way. My phone also died early on, but I didn't bother charging it. I was in no mood to deal with anyone. That was very much the theme of my day. I was fine with my family, but to everyone else I felt like Lily Tomlin yelling, "LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!" Bryan included. The only person I wanted to talk to was Natasha, because she was having her surgery today. Natasha said it went very well, and that her (phantom) boyfriend Konrad was taking care of her. Glad to hear it.
We stopped for dinner at Lone Star in Peterborough. As if I wasn't bloated enough, I packed on another ten pounds with the food I ate there. Fuck. I need a serious detox, and fast. I'm about to be bed-ridden for two weeks after my foot surgery on Thursday.
After getting home to Casa Z, I offered to drive Phillip downtown. I wasn't in the mood to exercise, and wanted to sing in the car on the drive home, so I figured that I would take Phillip to his place in the city.
Phillip and I had a good chat on the way downtown. I really felt like a big brother. He's still having a hard time over his breakup with Sarah, and I just wanted to give him a big hug. It fucking sucks. There's no other way to put it, and obviously you don't want to see someone you love going through that kind of turmoil. I've had a lot of those experiences myself, and tried to tell Phillip that this is a time for him to do whatever the hell he wants. Be crazy. Do stupid things. Say yes to everything.
It's slightly jarring to think that Phillip is 22, almost 23. I turned 22 the summer I was living in LA, and that feels like just yesterday. But, that's just it – Phillip is so young. We are so young. There's so much to experience out there. I want Phillip to take advantage of everything that life has to offer – without letting a former lover bring him down. Hmm. If only I could take my own advice.
I drove back to Casa Z from Phillip's place, sang my Britney Spears heart out, and crawled into bed.
