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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December 23
Last night was not cute. The weed I smoked brought to light the severity of my behavior over the past – seven years? Basically, as long as I have been drinking. In a way, I think I was too hard on myself. This is what I'm talking about when I say that drugs make you see things from another point of view, though. How ironic. Who would have thought that getting high would make me realize how much of a mess I truly am?
What really got me last night was the thought of seeing other guys drunk. Perhaps the vision had something to do with being in the shower, and seeing my naked body reflected in the bathroom mirror. I don't know. Either way, all I could think about were the times when I've seen a big guy at a bar and he's fucked out of his mind. Having been in that situation so many times myself, I think I experience those encounters a bit differently than most. Still, it's alarming to see a guy like that. You know? Certainly unattractive.
Then, something clicked. I thought, "It's me." I know what I am like outside of those messy nights. My life is a total Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde moment. Once in a while, Drunk Kurt comes out to get rowdy. Other than those horrible instances, I am actually a fairly responsible and upstanding member of society. The whole evening was a bit of a mind fuck.
What I was really hoping to gain from last night's weed was a distraction from the Aaron and Sonny drama. Instead, that nightmare was all I could think about. I didn't know how to deal with the anxiety. The only thing I could think of was shoveling food into my mouth until I'd eaten everything in my hotel room – to the point where my choice was to either open a packet of Splenda, or go to bed. Fortunately, I chose the latter.
I woke up tired, groggy, and bloated as all hell. Fuck. I packed up as much as I could, showered, and went for a quick breakfast with Mom and Dad in the hotel lobby. Nothing ground-breaking or eventful during those moments. Afterwards, we loaded up the car with Phillip and began our drive to Montreal – with Tabitha riding behind the wheel with Dad. It's in those moments that I laugh. Something which seems so normal and matter-of-fact to our family, is actually quite out of the ordinary. A cat in the front seat. I love it. That's what makes our family unique, and what has no doubt shaped me into the many characters I am today.
The road trip was business as usual. I wanted to do some writing, until I realized that the lack of internet, paired with the confinement of the truck and its loud speaker system, was not exactly conducive to creativity. I need silence when I work. That wasn't going to happen in the truck.
Eventually, we made it to the Walker's house in Montreal. I settled into Cousin Ashley's old room, which now looks more like the set-up of a Mormon/Quaker household. There are two separately made twin-size beds pushed together, complimented by matching furniture that dates back at least a couple of generations. I'm sitting on one of the beds right now, writing this entry. Although I've been sleeping in random beds for a couple of weeks now, it's very odd for me to be in Ashley's room.
