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 19
I woke up around 10:30 a.m., which was surprisingly early given the late ending to my night. Even more surprising, was the fact that I woke up without a hangover.
Craig visited our room this morning. After recapping the night, everyone got themselves ready for the day and headed to Ethan's favorite brunch spot in the West Village. The restaurant was closed, so the group walked a thousand miles in the sun like Jews through the desert to find Ethan's next suggestion. Despite the Big Gulp of water I had this morning to replenish my system, I was still parched as all hell. I needed a pick-me-up, so I stopped at a Starbucks along the way.
Finally at the restaurant and with food in front of me, everything was better. Good choice, Ethan. I have my concerns with Ethan, but I'll give credit where it's due. Everyone ordered cocktails with their meals, but that was the last thing I wanted this afternoon. Unless I'm going hard during the day and then having a quiet night in, my drinking is best reserved for evening hours.
After brunch, we split up into two groups and went shopping. Dan, Connor, Evan, and I ventured into SoHo. I wasn't loving it. Don't get me wrong, I love the boys. I'm fine with being in a group like that, but only at specific times and places. Weekend shopping in New York City was neither the time, nor the place. I was also beginning to experience a bit of anxiety. I wanted my alone time, but didn't know how to request it. Fortunately, everything ended up happening organically. Sort of.
Due to a lack of Wi-Fi, I couldn't re-connect with the boys after I had dipped into a store by myself. Eventually, we re-convened at Topman. Following a quick group trip to Opening Ceremony, I had decided to pull the trigger. I was now reaching Xanax levels of anxiety. I made up a lie about having to meet Greg in Central Park around 1 p.m., and the group split up after that. Perfect.
I actually did end up going to Central Park this afternoon. Greg wasn't going to be there, but I knew of someone else who might. Let's cut the bullshit. My crazy got the better of me today. Like the lunatic that I am, I took a direct train to Logan's subway stop on the Upper West Side. Granted, the station was near the park. This was no coincidence, though.
I dragged my ass across Logan's street. I'm talking about a slow-motion stroll right outside of his apartment. I wanted to egg the windows, but decided that vandalism would not be a good daytime look. Plus, the building was taller than I had remembered. It would have been too difficult.
I didn't cry. In fact, I wasn't even that upset. I think I muttered, "Fucking asshole," to myself at one point, but that was about it. Although very creepy of me, walking past Logan's apartment this afternoon wasn't a "breakdown on the sidewalk" moment by any means. Perhaps I have moved on.
Would I have liked to have seen Logan this trip? Yeah. I would have. Not because I want to have one last go with him, though. I'll be honest. At one point, I wanted to apologize to Logan for my actions. Now, I realize how detrimental that would be to my own happiness. If I apologized to Logan, I would essentially be allowing someone to make me believe that there is something wrong with me.
