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

October 1

October 1

If I can't get an award for waking up at 7 a.m. each day, can I at least get one for being the world's best procrastinator? I feel like Sabrina the Teenage Witch – fuck you, RX – when she and Harvey Kinkle did every possible task in existence to avoid working on their school project. That was me today.

First, I slept in until about 12:30 p.m. After dicking around my room for an hour, I finally went downstairs. Great. From there, my day was a mixture of eating, watching TV, talking with Mom, and trying to plan out this Florida thing. The trip is becoming harder and harder to organize because of hotel availability and a lack of decision-making on Mom and Dad's part, but we're getting there. Phillip also might not want to go. Are you fucking serious? It's Walt Disney World. Does he not realize this?

It's not just about the trip, but sometimes I feel as though Phillip and I are drifting further and further apart from one another. I mean it when I say it's not about Florida. Phillip has kind of always been like this. However, this year especially, I find myself continually less inclined to have a relationship with him. Maybe I'm making things up in my head. I tend to do that when I don't spend time with someone. Then, once I do, I realize that perhaps they haven't changed. Still, something about Phillip this year just seems off. Phillip is defensive about everything. Even if he's not, then he will clearly hold in the resentment and confront you about it years later.

I think the biggest thing that turns me off – and this holds true for anyone in my life – is when people are so concerned with what others think of them, to the point that they go out of their way to be something they're not. People can change. I understand that. I realize that Phillip's interests have developed over the years. At the same time, I would also like to think that, having known him since birth, I know my brother better than most people. The Phillip I see these days is not the Phillip I grew up with. It upsets me. I see how Kate and Natasha have such great personal and social relationships with their sisters. I don't think that will ever be the case for me and Phillip. It's sad, but I suppose it's our reality.

Anyway, Mom, Dad, and I worked on planning the Florida trip for most of the evening. The whole thing got me really excited about the possibility of visiting Walt Disney World again. Now, I just have to cover my ass with Big Bird. I need an excuse as to why I'm going on yet another vacation. I don't think I've told her that all of my grandparents are dead, so a "visit to Grandma's" should work. Maybe I'll make up a "Great Aunt" to be safe. We'll see. I don't want to mention anything until things are confirmed with Mom and Dad.

I still experience a lot of guilt when it comes to my parents. I think it's because of the way I have treated them. Specifically in the past, but I know I can still be a short-tempered asshole. I've written about this many times before. The thing is, I'm completely aware of my actions. Only after the fact, though. I'll get caught up in something frustrating and lash out, only to feel incredibly guilty afterwards. It's horrible. My parents don't deserve that kind of treatment. I know they don't.

This weekend, I am realizing that the guilt I experience every time I visit Casa Z might stem from that type of behavior. It's also why, whenever I am at the house, I try to make up for those actions by going above and beyond to prove to my parents that I love them. I want to show them that I'm trying to be the best son I can be. It's why I do all of the laundry, or feed the cat, or tidy the house, or get upset when Mom thinks she has to wait on me or cater to my every need. Everything I do is in an attempt to prove to my parents that I am pulling my weight. It's a lot of weight to pull, but I'm trying.

I worked through some writing this afternoon, but that's around the time procrastination reared its ugly head. I had barely made it through a single paragraph before I escaped into my closet and began digging through old Halloween costumes. I took out my Lady Gaga wig from 2013 and spent two hours washing it in Mom's bathtub before dinner. What a great use of my time. Fuck. After dinner, I stayed at the kitchen table with Mom and Dad as we continued working on the Florida stuff for about an hour.

With a slightly digested stomach, I eventually made my way to the basement for a workout. I did my usual routine for a while, and then it was sauna time. Otherwise known as "alone with my thoughts" time.

I think about RX a lot. I wonder if RX would care if I told him that I was going to be moving away. Would things change? I tried to squeeze all that I could from the scraps of our relationship, but it's becoming more and more clear that perhaps RX has nothing left to give. Or, perhaps it's that he doesn't want to. Why do I always get so hung up on RX? Every time I'm single, I go back to him. Stop it, Kurt.

I think about The Plan a lot. I need to talk to Uncle Jack about moving in with him in California. The thing is, even if Uncle Jack says no, I will still go through with the other half of The Plan. I don't want to live downtown anymore. Maybe I'll go somewhere else. I want to run away. That's a completely separate issue, but I certainly feel an undying urge to escape from this dead-end town.

I think about my teeth a lot. I cried about them in the sauna tonight. A part of me wonders if something like that had to happen to wake me up and push me to finally want to change my ways. The events of that August night haunt me every time I close my eyes or feel my teeth. I know it will continue to haunt me for the rest of my life, too. Last night, I had a nightmare about my teeth, to the point where I actually woke up and was afraid to touch them. I was scared they were gone. Like I said, maybe this had to happen. I just find it so strange that all this time, it's as though I knew something bad was going to happen. I kept talking about a runaway train that was going to crash, and look at what happened. I crashed right into the damn fucking sidewalk.

After the sauna, I hobbled upstairs and got ready for bed. I then lay on top of my comforter, thinking more about life. I like looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling. They remind me of a time when I didn't have as many problems in my life. Maybe that's just me romanticizing the past, though. I'm sure if you asked a 12-year-old Kurt, he'd tell you the world was collapsing around him, too.

Goodnight xo