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 2 of 2).
Adapted from a collection of nightly...
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August 7
I woke up at 7 a.m. this morning. I couldn't fall back to sleep for a while, because it was so uncomfortable to sleep on my face. I also couldn't move the entire right side of my chest. I don't know if it's because of my fall on Friday, or from the nude chicken fighting at the beach yesterday, but we'll just add it to my never-ending list of injuries.
Eventually, I fell asleep again and woke back up around 11 a.m. Naturally, because I had people over last night, there were 1,000 dishes to wash, so that took up the better part of my morning. I cleaned my apartment, my face, and my lotion soaked ass, then packed a bag for the day and met up with Dan. As always seems to be the case with Dan, we went on a pilgrimage to Trinity Bellwoods Park.
Leaving the Witch Cave this morning, all of Church Street was absolutely psychotic. I don't know what the fuck was going on. It was like the heat had just gotten to everyone, and they had completely lost it. One guy was literally speaking in tongues outside of the pharmacy, and another sounded like Anna Farris in The House Bunny when she's trying to remember names. I've had it with this neighborhood. Officially.
I stopped at Tim Horton's to pick up something to eat. I suppose one might call it a hangover, but today just felt generally awful. My entire body hurt. I was also struck by an overwhelming sense of guilt. Maybe it was because I didn't have any fucking teeth.
After multiple stops along the way, Dan and I got Chippy's and then settled into a shady spot at Trinity Bellwoods for a couple of hours and listened to music. We were both completely wrecked. Even now, I can barely move my body. Everything hurts so much. On top of my horrible chest pain, I also can't believe I had drunk/toothless sex with Spencer last night. Although, to be honest, at this point that is the least of my concerns. What a fucking disaster. There's no other way to describe it. My throat also kills. It's like I thrive on self-destructive behavior.
Speaking of which, as Dan and I were wrapping up in the park, RX responded to my earlier invitation to join us for the afternoon. See what I mean by self-destructive behavior? I think a part of my message to RX was me wanting to follow through on what I had told him earlier in the week. I didn't want to say all of those things – just like every time before – and then have our relationship fade away again. For fuck's sake, I said I loved the guy. I invited RX to the beach yesterday and he couldn't come, so I thought I would give today a shot, too. I wanted to show that I wasn't just saying those things for the sake of it.
Dan decided that he didn't want to be around for a reunion with my ex-boyfriend and swiftly left the park, which was perfect for me. RX arrived soon after Dan hobbled away, and we stayed and talked in the park until almost 8 p.m.
Our meeting in Trinity Bellwoods was so weird. In a good way. Just the two of us, talking about random things. The encounter made me realize that RX hadn't changed at all. Well, not drastically I mean. We've both changed. Obviously, that's going to happen with age. However, it wasn't to the point where RX was this distant memory that I had kept alive and preserved in my head. RX was still RX.
