Drunk in dumb

Hoy voy a beber y se - I'm going to drink...and know
que voy a enloquecer - that I'm gonna get crazy
Y te llamare despu�s - and I'll call you afterwards
Para hacerte mia mujer - To make you my woman
Es que no se porque - It's just.. I don't know why
Cuando tomo pienso en usted - When I drink, I think of you
Y te quiero comer,te quiero comer- and I want to eat you up, eat you up

That song is reminiscent of what I'm going to do if my phone doesn't get taken away from me on my birthday. My head is just not on my shoulders anymore. My feet aren't grounded. There's too many people involved. Too many hearts. The fact remains I am crazy about someone I can't have, and I don't want those that are crazy about me. How in the HELL does that happen? I get it. I've got "personality" and a sense of humor. I get that my eyes are "captivating" - I get all that cute shit that they are all so hung up over, but c'mon! Can I get a break? Even if I don't want to, I still get up and get dressed and have play time with the boys. Lately, I have been canceling play time back to back. Ugh, this love thing is a lot more complicated than people realize. I just want the person I want, to want me back. But he's got his walls up too. Fuck him and his walls. I am convinced that I am the victim in a sick game of "take what you get" because ask-and-you-shall-receive isn't exactly working for me. I crave him, because he has substance, content, material. He's that book that keeps you captivated on a long ride to nowhere, yet you LOVE the scenery. I crave it all. But it's a sick cycle. The person you want, wants someone else and etc. Isn't it uncanny though that my city houses hundreds of men irrationally afraid of commitment, and I used to walk the streets practically wearing an "I want to commit" sign on my head? I've turned into a free spirit, a duck, everything literally rolls off my back. I throw away things, people, men without thinking twice.

The menagerie and it's flock leader (my family and mother) are trying to suck me into an emotional trap, yet again. My sister said she's thinking of giving up the house to go back to living with my parents because she can't afford to live on her own. Her saving grace would be if I moved back in. So I am presented with two scenarios with the same fucked up outcome. They hate me anyway. So, why in the world would I want to go back home? After all the grief they gave me the first time? Even though I may never be able to pass a life sobriety test, I just happen to like being drunk in stupid while on my own. It just makes the impact of the fuck ups feel less fatal because there's no one to throw it in your face. NO ONE. Not to mention, there's no mom wagging her finger in my face. I'm NOT going back. Death is inevitable but going back only means I die earlier than I plan to. I refuse to drink from the Jim Jones punch bowl.

I'll have water from the valley please.

written on 05/30/2014 at 2:06 P.M.
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