Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 2 of 2)

July 27

July 27

I'm writing this journal entry on my laptop before bed, looking at the greasy trackpad and realizing that the main thing I use my computer for these days is porn.

It's been over a week without any romantic contact with boys. To be honest, it feels pretty good. My last thoughts before I drifted off to sleep last night were about RX. Why does this always happen? It's like, when my romantic life is bleak, I immediately revert back to my obsession with RX. Today was okay. I was so busy at work that I barely thought of RX. But, some days I just can't stop thinking about him.

I get sad when I think about the last interaction I had with RX. I wonder if we will ever speak again? History should show me that we probably will, but it's been almost two months now and I haven't heard from him, which is strange for me. Is this how it ends? I don't think RX realizes how much our last interaction hurt me. When I tried to express that pain to him, he shut it down and gave me a lecture. After that embarrassment, I'm not exactly in the mood to reach out to him.

Can I leave it like this, though? I hope not. I miss RX. Or, is that my loneliness talking again? It's been four years since we broke up, yet there's still this indescribable something inside of me that thinks what we have is special. I don't know.

I woke up still tired as all hell this morning, despite going to bed at a reasonable hour and even sleeping in and going into work at 10 a.m. I could sleep 16 hours, and I would still be exhausted. I want off these damn anti-depressant pills. I'm scared about going cold turkey, though.

Work was very busy. Big Bird doesn't know it, but I fell into another one of those "I wasn't listening" mistakes again. After Big Bird spent thirty minutes squawking like Charlie Brown's teacher, I went ahead and did more work than I should have. Big Bird will probably find out soon enough, and she's not going to be happy. It's not my fucking fault, though! Big Bird just talks so fucking much. 90% of the time, it's about her personal life. I swear, sometimes I think I was hired just so that Big Bird would have someone to talk to.

The problem is that the 10% of the time when Big Bird is actually saying something important, I've already tuned out. I just assume she's rambling about birthing a pig on her parents' farm again. Note to self: I don't wanna hear that! At one point this week, I guess Big Bird told me not to move forward with some administration work. Meanwhile, I've already done it all. Whoopsies! Oh, well! Friday should be an easy day when I'm back in my office.

My workday was pretty busy. Big Bird and I had the Membership Committee meeting tonight, which I said I wanted to go to. That's actually why I started work later today. As soon as Big Bird said that there was going to be dinner and drinks served at the meeting, I was in. It also shows that I'm "invested" in this job. Whatever! If there's free booze and I'm getting paid to drink it, I'm there!

The meeting started at 6 p.m., and I was on my way home around 9 p.m. It was super easy, and I got to schmooze with some of the higher-up members. I also got to sit next to The Clubhouse's president, Lawrence, who I actually think loves me. Lawrence is nice to everyone, but he seems to love everything that I do – including my obsession with Mariah. That's how he fucking introduced me at tonight's meeting.

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet Kurt," Lawrence announced to the room. "He's our new Member Relations Coordinator, and loves Mariah Carey."

As I told Lawrence, "Go for it!" There are many worse people/things I could be associated with.

There's this super-hot member at The Clubhouse who is best friends with Lawrence. His name is Jay, and he rides a motorcycle. Before I leave this job, I need to go for a ride on that bike. Or, on Jay. Big Bird seems to think he might be closeted. I don't give a fuck about that. I want to ride on the back of a motorcycle more than anything. Maybe I should put that on my summer bucket list? Maybe I should actually make a summer bucket list. Was that why my Florida summers were always so much fun? I was always just – doing stuff! I worked far more hours in a week than I do at The Clubhouse, but I had more fun during those summers down south than I can remember. Perhaps it's like my self-help book was saying, though – sometimes we romanticize the past.

I made sure to drink excessive amounts of alcohol at tonight's meeting, and balanced it out with a standard grease-soaked Clubhouse dinner. The meeting was fine, and I walked home afterwards to get my little bit of exercise in. I'm slowly moving back into my proper shoes, and it fucking hurts. I need to start running again, though. My body has gotten out of control. I don't even feel comfortable tucking in my shirt anymore.

Other random notes? Lauryn wants to come up to Casa Z this weekend. That's not happening. I need full relaxation and a detox, and that's not going to happen with a friend at the house.

Sebastian Garner is moving to Toronto in a couple of weeks, which should be very interesting. I haven't seen Sebastian since my LA days. Even then, that was only over the course of two dates. Based on Sebastian's recent pictures, I don't even know if I'm that attracted to him anymore. I remember a few months ago getting super stoned, looking at pictures of Sebastian online, and just thinking to myself, "Really, Kurt? Really?" We'll see how that works out.

On my walk home from work tonight, I sequenced the Me. I Am Mariah... The Elusive Chanteuse album again, with "Money ($ * / ...)" ending my walk. I was in a great mood. Aside from the weight gain that has been really bothering me lately, I've gotta say that everything else is – not that bad! My skin will always be a hot mess. However, my bank account is slowly on the rise, I seem to have resolved most of the drama in my life, I can pay my bills, and I have job interviews coming in. Things are good. I want them to be great, but I don't want to let the good go unacknowledged. I'm getting happier.

Now, I'm going to get really high, then rub one out and go to bed.

I think of RX when I hear these lyrics:

"Might as well tell the truth about the matter

Oh yes, I guess it's selfish of me to just expect that

I'm entitled to have you

But tonight all I wanna do is just hold you 'til we

We both break down and

Cry."

— Mariah Carey, "Cry."

Goodnight xo