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

September 30

September 30

Another end to another month.

I can't believe how fast this year is going by. I also can't decide if that is a good or bad thing. It would be great if I knew there was a light at the end of this tunnel, but month after month things never seem to improve – despite my constant hoping. Perhaps "hoping" isn't enough.

This past month, I feel as though I've made more positive decisions than in recent memory. Particularly near the end, with the exception of the last hour of Kate's wedding. Even though I'm not where I want to be right now, I am still optimistic that the changes I'm currently making in my life will foster in a new era for me, which will hopefully bring some clarity. There's that hope again.

I worked 9 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. at The Clubhouse today. If this Thanksgiving trip to Florida happens, I want to have some extra hours banked up so that I can take the time off without losing any money. That, and I've also realized that I don't care about Big Bird's budget anymore. I'm leaving in December. Big whoop. If it means having more money put aside for The Plan, I'll drain that well to the last drop.

I had a decent amount of work to do today. That is, if you count the hour I spent soaking and peeling stamps off of old envelopes so that Big Bird could save money on postage. I'm not kidding. I mean, how fucking ridiculous. Whatever. At the end of the day, if Big Bird wants to pay me $16 an hour to waste her time, that's fine with me. Not surprisingly, when Big Bird saw the result of the peeled stamps, it was the proudest she's ever been of me. So, that's what I had to do this whole time to gain some respect? Unbelievable.

While pretending to work on a project together, I spent a long time talking with Emma in her office this afternoon. Emma gave me the full history of Big Bird and all of the former employees who have worked in my role – including Lucy. Apparently, since April 2015, there have been eight people in my role who all quit because they couldn't stand working under Big Bird. As much as I think Big Bird is psychotic now, supposedly she used to be a lot worse. Emma told me that when Lucy was in my position, things got to the point where Lawrence told Big Bird that she needed to suck it up and stop complaining about her employees.

A part of me feels bad for leading Big Bird on to think that I'm in this for the long run. We've been planning a lot of projects recently, none of which I'll be seeing to completion. However, the other part of me has already checked out. Now, I'm basically just looking for ways to occupy my time until December comes and I hand in my notice.

When 5 p.m. rolled around, I stole some dinner from the staff meal in the kitchen. After secretly eating my food in the bathroom, I grabbed my things and punched out at the exact minute required to get an extra quarter-hour of pay. I've got this thing figured out.

Following my usual schlep to the gym, I spent a long time performing my routine. Despite my horrifically painful foot, I was relatively successful on the treadmill. My toe has gotten so bad recently. All day, I just kept thinking about how I couldn't wait to be at Casa Z this weekend and not wear shoes for 48 hours. So, that's what I did after the gym. I stopped by the Witch Cave to pick up my dirty clothes, jumped in the car, and drove up to the house.

I tend to cry in the car when I am alone. It's not really a new thing. I often cry whenever I get caught up in a sad song or ballad. Tonight was really intense, though. I was really sobbing during Mariah Carey's "Cry." I'm talking about a heavy flow of snot and an endless stream of tears for a solid five minutes after the song had ended.

Usually, I have a reason for crying. Typically, it's because of a boy – which is another subject for another entry – or work, or something specific. In other words, I usually know why I am upset. However, when I stopped to ask myself why I was sad tonight, I didn't have an answer. I just thought, "I don't know why I am crying right now." To be honest, that's probably worse than knowing what I'm upset about. I think tonight was just a release of general unhappiness and sadness. It's scary to be that upset and not know why. It means I don't know how to fix the problem.

When I got to Casa Z, Phillip was home. I said about two words to him all night, because why bother? The rest of my evening was spent talking about Florida with Mom, then watching TV with both her and Dad. It was comfortable. I didn't even realize that I'd left my phone upstairs. Actually, my phone has hardly gone off recently. I am absolutely loving it. A large part of that is the lack of fuck boys clogging up my inbox, but I think friends realize that I am sort of checking out as well. They know that I am retreating into the "Kurt Bubble" for a while.

I don't want to go out.

I don't want to drink.

I don't want to smoke.

I don't want to go to expensive dinners where I'll spend money I don't have – literally, because I am broke right now – or eat food that I might as well apply directly to my thighs.

I want to be selfish right now. I want to focus on fixing all of the things about myself and my life that feel broken. If that means slowing down on the texts and social media posts, I am more than okay with that. Especially the social media stuff. It's so toxic.

I was a little upset today when Dan asked me to elaborate on The Plan. I had nonchalantly mentioned that I would be moving back to Casa Z at the end of the year, before remembering that I hadn't yet told him. After sending Dan a long explanation about being unhappy, he never responded to my message. Maybe it's one of those things where someone doesn't know how to react to another person's problems. At the same time, acknowledgement of some form would have been appreciated. After all, Dan was the one who asked.

Anyway, it doesn't matter. At the end of the day, none of this is anyone's business but my own. The more time I spend explaining my situation to people, the less time I have to improve it. Less talking more, more doing. But also, less writing and more sleeping. At least, right now.

I shouldn't, but I'm about to pop a Xanax. I'm going to pass out with the curtains drawn so I get a solid, uninterrupted sleep that will catch me up on a week of consistent four- to five-hour slumbers.

Actually, no. Wait. I'm not going to take my Xanax. If we're going to do this drug-free thing, we should try and commit a little more.

Tomorrow is a new day. Hopefully, we can book that Florida trip for Thanksgiving. I know that I just went on a rant about wanting to focus on myself, but I could really use a trip to Walt Disney World right now. I need some magic in my life.

Goodbye, September.

Goodnight xo