Well. Going off what I said in one of my blogs last week, I must be insane.
But it's my decision. Not yours. I truly feel that we belong together. And if it took us a week of separation to figure that out, so be it.
If you wanna yell at me, talk shit behind my back, go for it. You have no idea what it's like to live in my skin. I have never felt this strongly about another human being before in my life. He has obvious flaws. I have them. WE ALL HAVE THEM. We keep coming back to each other for a reason, right?
I am in love with this man.
With all that being said, I'm not moving back in with him. So don't label me a total fucking retard yet. Heh.
I fucking love you, Terry.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
GLORIOUS RENOVATIONS!
I'M GONNA PAINT MY ROOOOOOM!!! YEAAAHHHHH!!!
Just painting it all (including the ceiling) white and then accenting the wall with the closet turquoise (see the colorhere), but still. I'm excited as hell. THAT ROOM IS SO GODDAMN UGLY. All the fucking walls are filthy and bleaching/windexing does NOTHING. And the wall I'm painting blue has the ugliest, most disgusting wallpaper I have EVER seen. If you've been here, you know. 'Cause it's in the hallway, as well. UGH. It's baby blue, peach and grey SHELLS. Well, at least it used to be those colors before we moved in and started smoking up a storm, heh. Now it's just kinda... brown. Gross. Then, eventually, I have to figure out a quick yet safe fix for the HOLE IN MY FLOOR and find a fancy rug to cover it. ZEBRA PRINT.
I swear, the ex-wife of the guy who used to live here was an absolute whackjob. The kitchen was/still halfway is baby blue, pink and DARK MAUVE. The front bathroom was PINK. Then there's that godawful shell wallpaper. GROSS.
So yeah. I guess if I'm gonna be stuck here for a while, I can at least make my room much fancier.
Just painting it all (including the ceiling) white and then accenting the wall with the closet turquoise (see the colorhere), but still. I'm excited as hell. THAT ROOM IS SO GODDAMN UGLY. All the fucking walls are filthy and bleaching/windexing does NOTHING. And the wall I'm painting blue has the ugliest, most disgusting wallpaper I have EVER seen. If you've been here, you know. 'Cause it's in the hallway, as well. UGH. It's baby blue, peach and grey SHELLS. Well, at least it used to be those colors before we moved in and started smoking up a storm, heh. Now it's just kinda... brown. Gross. Then, eventually, I have to figure out a quick yet safe fix for the HOLE IN MY FLOOR and find a fancy rug to cover it. ZEBRA PRINT.
I swear, the ex-wife of the guy who used to live here was an absolute whackjob. The kitchen was/still halfway is baby blue, pink and DARK MAUVE. The front bathroom was PINK. Then there's that godawful shell wallpaper. GROSS.
So yeah. I guess if I'm gonna be stuck here for a while, I can at least make my room much fancier.
Done.
I guess the below blog doesn't apply anymore. Go fig.
Funny how things like this used to hurt so badly for SO LONG a few years ago. I'm guessing that either I've grown up or I've just reached the end of my rope in this particular situation that I keep letting happen over and over again. Or both.
Know what? If you can't figure your shit out, see ya. Your fucking loss. But if you fucking drunk dial me one more time to flip-flop between what a disgusting bitch you think I am and then apologize for your own stupidity, I swear to GOD I'm going to change my number and fucking punch you in the mouth. I'm done with your inconsistent behavior. It's so fucking detrimental to not only me, but YOU as well. So stop.
Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.
Doom and I went to the plasma center today. They took him in immediately because it was his second donation. I stood in the waiting room for an hour and a half and then Doom came out and realized I hadn't been handed any paperwork to fill out when we got there. We just left, 'cause even if I had filled it all out right then, I would've waited in there for another two hours. And eff that, I said.
My car ate $8 (half a tank of gas) driving from the Arlington 7-11 to Casino Road in Everett, then back to 7-11 in Smokey Point. FUCK. I NEED TO GET AN OIL CHANGE TOMORROW! That's the first thing I'm doing after I cash my paycheck. I can't take this anymore. My car is bleeding my (and mom's) wallet dry right now. USUALLY, I can fill my tank and drive to Seattle and back like 3-4 times. Now I can just do it once. My poor baby. I'm surprised it hasn't exploded yet :/ But seriously. With proper maintenance, Geos fucking last forever. Everybody should have one. Heh. I'm HORRIBLE to mine and it's still lasted me almost two years without nickel and dime-ing me to death (with the exception of the gas situation right now...). GEOS FTW.
Um. I wanna do something tonight. Someone save me from this celltower-less valley of DEATH.
Funny how things like this used to hurt so badly for SO LONG a few years ago. I'm guessing that either I've grown up or I've just reached the end of my rope in this particular situation that I keep letting happen over and over again. Or both.
Know what? If you can't figure your shit out, see ya. Your fucking loss. But if you fucking drunk dial me one more time to flip-flop between what a disgusting bitch you think I am and then apologize for your own stupidity, I swear to GOD I'm going to change my number and fucking punch you in the mouth. I'm done with your inconsistent behavior. It's so fucking detrimental to not only me, but YOU as well. So stop.
Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.
Doom and I went to the plasma center today. They took him in immediately because it was his second donation. I stood in the waiting room for an hour and a half and then Doom came out and realized I hadn't been handed any paperwork to fill out when we got there. We just left, 'cause even if I had filled it all out right then, I would've waited in there for another two hours. And eff that, I said.
My car ate $8 (half a tank of gas) driving from the Arlington 7-11 to Casino Road in Everett, then back to 7-11 in Smokey Point. FUCK. I NEED TO GET AN OIL CHANGE TOMORROW! That's the first thing I'm doing after I cash my paycheck. I can't take this anymore. My car is bleeding my (and mom's) wallet dry right now. USUALLY, I can fill my tank and drive to Seattle and back like 3-4 times. Now I can just do it once. My poor baby. I'm surprised it hasn't exploded yet :/ But seriously. With proper maintenance, Geos fucking last forever. Everybody should have one. Heh. I'm HORRIBLE to mine and it's still lasted me almost two years without nickel and dime-ing me to death (with the exception of the gas situation right now...). GEOS FTW.
Um. I wanna do something tonight. Someone save me from this celltower-less valley of DEATH.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Someone just fucking kill me.
I can't fucking do this.
If I'm at work and preoccupied, I'm basically fine. The second I get off work I keep having to stop myself from driving into town to the apartment. Or off a cliff. I get home and go into my room and cry like someone just fucking died. When I see you, I just want to kiss you and hug you and tell you I love you, but I CAN'T. My hair-pulling has accelerated at an alarming rate. About 60% of the time, I just want to fucking die.
I cannot do this. I just want to make my brain STOP. I need cruise control for my head. I need more booze. I need to black this all out. I just don't know how the fuck to deal with it.
I hate everyone who is happy with someone right now. And even more than that, I hate everyone who has worse problems than we ever could have conceived and manages to stick together, because they LOVE EACH OTHER. Why not us? Why do we keep having to fucking fail? WHY DO I ALWAYS FUCKING FAIL?
WHY COULDN'T YOU JUST TELL ME YOU NEEDED TIME TO YOURSELF? WHY THE FUCK DID YOU LET THIS SPIRAL OUT OF CONTROL LIKE THIS?! WHY THE FUCK DO YOU ALWAYS GIVE UP?!?!
I'm going to sleep. I can't fucking take my brain anymore.
If I'm at work and preoccupied, I'm basically fine. The second I get off work I keep having to stop myself from driving into town to the apartment. Or off a cliff. I get home and go into my room and cry like someone just fucking died. When I see you, I just want to kiss you and hug you and tell you I love you, but I CAN'T. My hair-pulling has accelerated at an alarming rate. About 60% of the time, I just want to fucking die.
I cannot do this. I just want to make my brain STOP. I need cruise control for my head. I need more booze. I need to black this all out. I just don't know how the fuck to deal with it.
I hate everyone who is happy with someone right now. And even more than that, I hate everyone who has worse problems than we ever could have conceived and manages to stick together, because they LOVE EACH OTHER. Why not us? Why do we keep having to fucking fail? WHY DO I ALWAYS FUCKING FAIL?
WHY COULDN'T YOU JUST TELL ME YOU NEEDED TIME TO YOURSELF? WHY THE FUCK DID YOU LET THIS SPIRAL OUT OF CONTROL LIKE THIS?! WHY THE FUCK DO YOU ALWAYS GIVE UP?!?!
I'm going to sleep. I can't fucking take my brain anymore.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
FUCK YOU.
So. That went well.
*pfffttt*
How can someone say such hurtful things to someone and expect to still be their friend? Seriously? WHERE IS YOUR LOGIC, SIR?
"You know what? I don't even really like you anymore. What am I doing?"
"You're fucking disgusting."
"You look really pretty tonight. Wanna come play pool? Fine, FUCK YOU, get your shit the fuck out of my house."
I figure I'm gonna work my ass off this week. Pick up some extra shifts, hopefully. Then on Friday I'm gonna start overhauling my car. Oil change and new brakes to start. Next paycheck I'm gonna fix my CV joint again. I don't get how that fucker keeps going out so fast.
Tomorrow after work I'm ridding my car of all traces of you. It fucking REEKS of fermented booze in there because shit kept getting spilled. So I have to vacuum the shit out of it and steam clean the carpet. I'm so fucking sick of smelling booze every time I get into my car, just because YOU couldn't fucking wait to get somewhere to start/continue drinking. I still can't believe how many empty beer cans were in my trunk after I unloaded all my shit out of it today.
Now that I think about it, there really were a shit-ton of things wrong in our relationship. I just wish I could let the fuck go of memories still fresh in my mind from TWO WEEKS AGO when you still loved me. I don't fucking get you. At all. Everything's TerryTerryTerry and there's no fucking room for anyone else.
I'm such a fucking masochist. I hate it.
You know what, though? I actually get to start hanging out with MY friends now (the ones I didn't live with, that is). I haven't seen Chivahn since our shoot in December. I've only seen Mike a handful of times since around January and only for like 5 minutes to an hour each time. And I haven't seen Chelsey since October. All because I was so goddamn busy driving your ass around whenever you had to/felt like going somewhere. I've been hanging out with Alli, but that was just because she lives right down the street from the apartment. If she had lived any farther than that, I wouldn't have been able to see her at all.
So you know what? FUCK YOU. I'll be just fine.
*pfffttt*
How can someone say such hurtful things to someone and expect to still be their friend? Seriously? WHERE IS YOUR LOGIC, SIR?
"You know what? I don't even really like you anymore. What am I doing?"
"You're fucking disgusting."
"You look really pretty tonight. Wanna come play pool? Fine, FUCK YOU, get your shit the fuck out of my house."
I figure I'm gonna work my ass off this week. Pick up some extra shifts, hopefully. Then on Friday I'm gonna start overhauling my car. Oil change and new brakes to start. Next paycheck I'm gonna fix my CV joint again. I don't get how that fucker keeps going out so fast.
Tomorrow after work I'm ridding my car of all traces of you. It fucking REEKS of fermented booze in there because shit kept getting spilled. So I have to vacuum the shit out of it and steam clean the carpet. I'm so fucking sick of smelling booze every time I get into my car, just because YOU couldn't fucking wait to get somewhere to start/continue drinking. I still can't believe how many empty beer cans were in my trunk after I unloaded all my shit out of it today.
Now that I think about it, there really were a shit-ton of things wrong in our relationship. I just wish I could let the fuck go of memories still fresh in my mind from TWO WEEKS AGO when you still loved me. I don't fucking get you. At all. Everything's TerryTerryTerry and there's no fucking room for anyone else.
I'm such a fucking masochist. I hate it.
You know what, though? I actually get to start hanging out with MY friends now (the ones I didn't live with, that is). I haven't seen Chivahn since our shoot in December. I've only seen Mike a handful of times since around January and only for like 5 minutes to an hour each time. And I haven't seen Chelsey since October. All because I was so goddamn busy driving your ass around whenever you had to/felt like going somewhere. I've been hanging out with Alli, but that was just because she lives right down the street from the apartment. If she had lived any farther than that, I wouldn't have been able to see her at all.
So you know what? FUCK YOU. I'll be just fine.
Fuck my fucking life.
Funny how after I 'fix' everything that's wrong, my world has to start falling apart because my efforts aren't good enough.
Anyhow. Work schedule this week:
Monday: 9-3:30
Tuesday: 9-4:30
Wednesday: 9-4:30
And then any extra hours Joseph throws my way. I know he will. And PAYDAY ON FRIDAY. It's only gonna be like $100, but it's still money that I didn't have in the first place. Heh.
At mom's for the foreseeable future. I'm not gonna prod at the situation 'cause I know that'll probably just make it worse. I've got all my smokes and work clothes and shoes and shit, so I'll be okay for the week. We'll see if I actually have to go and grab the rest of my shit eventually, I guess.
Well. Gonna go take a shower and get ready for Gramma's birthday party.
EDIT:Yep. It's over. Got all my shit, will get my mattress back on one of my days off. Goodbye, Terry. You're a real piece of fucking work.
Anyhow. Work schedule this week:
Monday: 9-3:30
Tuesday: 9-4:30
Wednesday: 9-4:30
And then any extra hours Joseph throws my way. I know he will. And PAYDAY ON FRIDAY. It's only gonna be like $100, but it's still money that I didn't have in the first place. Heh.
At mom's for the foreseeable future. I'm not gonna prod at the situation 'cause I know that'll probably just make it worse. I've got all my smokes and work clothes and shoes and shit, so I'll be okay for the week. We'll see if I actually have to go and grab the rest of my shit eventually, I guess.
Well. Gonna go take a shower and get ready for Gramma's birthday party.
EDIT:Yep. It's over. Got all my shit, will get my mattress back on one of my days off. Goodbye, Terry. You're a real piece of fucking work.
Monday, July 13, 2009
I AM JOB!
YAYBACKTOWORK! And all the people who made the place miserable are gone. YESSSS!!!
So I filled out all my paperwork today, got my documents faxed in and went to Everett and took my pee test already. YAAAYYYY. Hopefully I'll be able to start on Thursday. I'm REAAAAALLLY hoping so 'cause paychecks are next week. I need a haircut. And I desperately need to start saving for my new phone (I've been DYING for an LG Xenon for about 3 months now). And, of course, I've gotta set money aside for rent and whatnot.
This is gonna be rad. All the kick-ass people are still there AND minimum wage went up since I've been gone. So that's a 30 cent raise right there.
GLEEEEE. I'm so excited to get off my ass and lose all the weight I've gained from sitting around every day.
So I filled out all my paperwork today, got my documents faxed in and went to Everett and took my pee test already. YAAAYYYY. Hopefully I'll be able to start on Thursday. I'm REAAAAALLLY hoping so 'cause paychecks are next week. I need a haircut. And I desperately need to start saving for my new phone (I've been DYING for an LG Xenon for about 3 months now). And, of course, I've gotta set money aside for rent and whatnot.
This is gonna be rad. All the kick-ass people are still there AND minimum wage went up since I've been gone. So that's a 30 cent raise right there.
GLEEEEE. I'm so excited to get off my ass and lose all the weight I've gained from sitting around every day.
FML
UGHHHHHHH.
Yesterday was fun. HEH. I wake up around noon ('cause we got home from the show around 3am that morning) and Terry's STILL awake with Kevin, wasted as fuck. So in his drunken state, he decides to lay into me about everything he can possibly think of. Brandon needs to go home and for some reason, it's all my fault he's been here. I'm a horrible person for getting so drunk the night before and having to have Brandon drive. I have no job. I'm "smoking all his cigarettes". There are 6 packs missing from the carton he bought on Friday. Of course, he's so drunk he doesn't take into consideration that he has a pack on him and later I found a full pack on the floor in front of the tv. So all that meant I couldn't smoke any of his cigarettes anymore. Luckily mom and Terry loaded Brandon and I up with about $60 in change, but after splitting that in half, buying toilet paper, gas and THEN cigarettes for myself, I have $3 left and I had to cancel my shoot in Seattle today because I only have 1/8 of a tank of gas. I already tried to back out of it once because fucking Sarah was supposed to be there, but I guess she scheduled another time with the guy because I was supposed to be there. So all in all, I look extremely unprofessional and flaky to this guy now.
But THAT'S NOT ALL. Yesterday I took Brandon home, hung out with mom and watched a movie, went back home. I walk in the door and Terry's passed out on the couch cuddling with Jordan.
UM. HI. I know I'm an extremely jealous person. But in this case, I trust Jordan completely and I already tried to let this go. It's just the fact that I had to leave the house in a fight and then come home to that. I'm not upset with her, I'm upset with HIM. Because I've heard stories about Terry getting wasted until he can barely fucking speak anymore and hitting on girls he wouldn't normally touch. Jordan should be one of those girls, considering she's 17 years old. And hello! YOU'VE GOT A FUCKING GIRLFRIEND.
I don't fucking know. I know I'm a pile of shit because I still haven't found a job yet. He puts so much angst into this whole situation, but at the same time, if I get a job, it's probably not gonna be some part-time, morning or mid-shift thing. The hours are going to be incredibly erratic. That means we're not going to see each other EVER and I damn well won't be able to take him anywhere. Not to work and back, not to band practice three times a week, and I'm most likely gonna miss all his shows. This is going to piss him off to no fucking end. He had a HUGE problem with it when I was working at Guess. He's just too fucking deluded to realize that this is going to happen again.
"Things aren't going Terry's way." Well fuck you! They AREN'T going to, because you only make $10 an hour now, pay hundreds of dollars a month to treatment and fines, pay rent AND LIVE WITH ROOMMATES. God forbid sometimes one of them is gonna have a random friend over who sleeps on the couch. And the fact that I keep the kitchen in immaculate condition and do all his laundry and drive him and his friends EVERYWHERE isn't enough. And honestly, if things were going "Terry's way", he'd have a fucking liver failure.
Know what? Things don't ever go "Bre's way". EVER. Not while I'm in Terryland. You think I fucking like picking up beer cans you and your friends leave sitting around all fucking day? I'm barely even able to go see my fucking family because I'm so low on gas all the time from having to drive you everywhere! I haven't even seen MY FRIENDS in MONTHS.
Fuck it. I'm going to the outlet mall today. I'm getting myself a job. Fuck him if he can't deal with the repercussions because he's so fucking accustomed to me doing shit for him 24/7.
Yesterday was fun. HEH. I wake up around noon ('cause we got home from the show around 3am that morning) and Terry's STILL awake with Kevin, wasted as fuck. So in his drunken state, he decides to lay into me about everything he can possibly think of. Brandon needs to go home and for some reason, it's all my fault he's been here. I'm a horrible person for getting so drunk the night before and having to have Brandon drive. I have no job. I'm "smoking all his cigarettes". There are 6 packs missing from the carton he bought on Friday. Of course, he's so drunk he doesn't take into consideration that he has a pack on him and later I found a full pack on the floor in front of the tv. So all that meant I couldn't smoke any of his cigarettes anymore. Luckily mom and Terry loaded Brandon and I up with about $60 in change, but after splitting that in half, buying toilet paper, gas and THEN cigarettes for myself, I have $3 left and I had to cancel my shoot in Seattle today because I only have 1/8 of a tank of gas. I already tried to back out of it once because fucking Sarah was supposed to be there, but I guess she scheduled another time with the guy because I was supposed to be there. So all in all, I look extremely unprofessional and flaky to this guy now.
But THAT'S NOT ALL. Yesterday I took Brandon home, hung out with mom and watched a movie, went back home. I walk in the door and Terry's passed out on the couch cuddling with Jordan.
UM. HI. I know I'm an extremely jealous person. But in this case, I trust Jordan completely and I already tried to let this go. It's just the fact that I had to leave the house in a fight and then come home to that. I'm not upset with her, I'm upset with HIM. Because I've heard stories about Terry getting wasted until he can barely fucking speak anymore and hitting on girls he wouldn't normally touch. Jordan should be one of those girls, considering she's 17 years old. And hello! YOU'VE GOT A FUCKING GIRLFRIEND.
I don't fucking know. I know I'm a pile of shit because I still haven't found a job yet. He puts so much angst into this whole situation, but at the same time, if I get a job, it's probably not gonna be some part-time, morning or mid-shift thing. The hours are going to be incredibly erratic. That means we're not going to see each other EVER and I damn well won't be able to take him anywhere. Not to work and back, not to band practice three times a week, and I'm most likely gonna miss all his shows. This is going to piss him off to no fucking end. He had a HUGE problem with it when I was working at Guess. He's just too fucking deluded to realize that this is going to happen again.
"Things aren't going Terry's way." Well fuck you! They AREN'T going to, because you only make $10 an hour now, pay hundreds of dollars a month to treatment and fines, pay rent AND LIVE WITH ROOMMATES. God forbid sometimes one of them is gonna have a random friend over who sleeps on the couch. And the fact that I keep the kitchen in immaculate condition and do all his laundry and drive him and his friends EVERYWHERE isn't enough. And honestly, if things were going "Terry's way", he'd have a fucking liver failure.
Know what? Things don't ever go "Bre's way". EVER. Not while I'm in Terryland. You think I fucking like picking up beer cans you and your friends leave sitting around all fucking day? I'm barely even able to go see my fucking family because I'm so low on gas all the time from having to drive you everywhere! I haven't even seen MY FRIENDS in MONTHS.
Fuck it. I'm going to the outlet mall today. I'm getting myself a job. Fuck him if he can't deal with the repercussions because he's so fucking accustomed to me doing shit for him 24/7.
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