ramen insomnia, with a side of boycrazy. april 17th, technically.

i got overwhelmed today for the first time in a very long time. emotionally. it was the equivalent to the hair on the back of my neck standing up. and i immediately shut it off. literally put a lid on it.

i thought i was ready to handle something. and i was, in fact, really not.

it started innocently enough: matthew knows someone i knew in college back home. it is such a random coincidence (i met this person back home before he ever lived with this person up here). i told him i'd find a picture i knew i had of him, from a time when i was 21, when he happened to be friends/classmates with my ex, the sun.

and i found it. not the night he was here, when we went looking. but today, when i picked up the second album. it was on the first page. it blew my mind a little. and made me wish i'd picked it up then, but i just didn't want to spend time going through old photo albums right then. so when i didn't find it first, i stopped looking and said i'd show him later.

but at the point in time where i picked up the album today, i had also decided (this is where my judgment took a turn for the 'not so much') that i could go through my shoebox full of photos to find the one i was originally thinking of.

i stared at the box, the same way i stare at my old journals. it requires a mini pep talk.

i've successfully avoided the journals for a year and a half, by some miracle. and i thought the shoebox would be so much easier, and so much less intense, and so much better an idea. i know what happens when i grab journals. and the last time i went through the shoebox was when i joined facebook and uploaded all my old pics to tag people i'd reconnected with online.

i guess i was thinking of all my tahoe pictures. my road trip pictures. and all the good times.

first of all, when i opened the box, a picture of chalk was on top.

i don't know why. or how. but it made my stomach turn. it was from the time when i met him, 14 years ago. and i hated him then, everything about him. he was conceited (for no good reason) and obnoxious, and had the standard coffee house pony tail/goatee combo. and the picture was so gross.

i pushed it to the bottom of a pile, and stuck it in the back, trying to shake the weirdness that sleeping with him this fall brought to my gut when i saw the picture from ages ago.

then i grabbed a first little stack, maybe 30 pictures. and they were all tahoe and the grand canyon. and they made me smile. all nature. no people.

i put them to the back.

and i pinched the next stack in my fingers and started to pull them up.

the stack consisted of all the duplicates of my wedding photos.

and ever was on top, in a picture with his mother's old housemate.

without even pulling the stack out of the box, i looked away. and i pushed them back down inside, and closed the lid and pushed the box away from me.

i think the instinctive reaction was because i have been thinking about ever quite a bit. matthew asked the other night, at the craziest possible time (i swear i'm not exaggerating), why i got divorced.

and wanting to explain it to him, i told the simplified version. matthew, who i was so fearful that i would have friends in common with. and he had no clue of anyone that i was talking about, much less ever or the business. it was a huge relief.

i told him the story, following a week spent procrastinating talking to the dudes about the extrication of my puppy, and an intervention for ever.

following about two weeks running, thinking that every day would be the day that someone called to tell me that he is dead. and the whole time i've known about his relapse, contemplating whether i would go to his funeral. it's always in the back of my mind. attention deficit helps me distract myself, and makes it so much easier to turn off.

the funeral question is easy, come to think of it. he won't have one. and he certainly won't be put in the ground. he'll be burned up. just like his father. and won't even have the privilege of being scattered somewhere, because he will not be buried.

he'll sit in a plastic bag in a little box, just like his dad. in a box in a room where his mother lives.

that's his fate.

it is so fucked up.

and i walk around daily, not really thinking of it, except sometimes randomly. smiling. and happy. truly feeling alive and free and wonderful. somehow. and then i'll frown about him for a minute. then go back to skipping along.

well, not really somehow. i guess the fact that i feel relieved and grateful to not be stuck in his mess is the reason why i feel so free of it. because everyone is jumping ship. and bailing on him. following suit. and the funny thing is, i bet they all judged me for doing it. and not that i wish to say 'i was right' because of what he is doing, but i was right. and now they all will see it.

i messaged jay tonight about it. i hope he wastes no time in responding. we'll see. he tends to write with a heavy delay, and he's always short on time.

back to the titular track...

ramen. it's 345am. i'm wide fucking awake.

i came home from a night out bowling with a wicked stomachache. it made me think of this tidbit i just heard, about people getting sick from draught beer taps not being cleaned properly. the beer was watery, which was fine - i only had two and had to drive through a fucking monsoon to get there and home. and then i had a seltzer. and some chicken fingers and fries. with some wing sauce.

maybe it was my late lunch of a breakfast sandwich i bought yesterday morning and couldn't stomach until today. maybe it was the coffee i had up until i left (oh, RIGHT. that is why i'm awake...4 pm coffee time). whatever it was, i felt so sick i thought i was going to puke driving home.

i had two cigarettes on the way from jersey. and i didn't really take much of a break between them. and i had time for a third. but i knew that if i smoked, i would be pulling over to barf.

it's like the cigarette that does you in when you've had entirely too much to drink. it's the one that makes you spin. even though you realize it almost immediately, it's already too late. and the next thing you know? pukefest. only i wasn't drunk. i wasn't even tipsy. but felt that awful.

so when kit asked me to favorite bar, i didn't want to drive in the rain that i'd just driven home in. she'd been about 20 minutes too late calling me. i could have stopped on the way home. but i felt so sick to my stomach that i said i needed an hour. and came inside. at midnight, she gave up on me.

the feeling just went away, at about 230am. when i could finally stomach a mom cookie. and washed it down with a pbr. and had another smoke. so gross.

i uploaded some super cute pictures today, and spent some time tagging them, which i don't usually do. and giving them witty captions, which i always aim to do.

i felt good enough to call it hungry about 30 minutes ago. and just finished a bowl of beef ramen. definitely my least favorite of all the varieties. in fact, i don't know why i even get it.

and i'll regret the potato chips i ate with it tomorrow, no doubt.

i freaked myself out a little today before i went bowling.

i was nervous bellied, and spent my entire day in pajamas, in bed. i didn't get up and brush my teeth/neti/shower until 5pm. it was amazing. i haven't had a pajama day that i can remember since well before i left the apartment. like a month and half or two?

so i felt i deserved it.

and i only got up to go bowling. but with the onslaught of hormones yesterday, i woke up this morning feeling pretty awful. i got out of the shower and dressed, and put on a pair of jeans that were snug just a month ago.

and i really needed a belt.

and i'm three pounds over my scary skinny weight from summer. i don't want to be. i want three pounds over that, and leveled off.

and it's the time when i should be about five pounds over that, from eating everything in sight during pms week.

and i stared at myself in the mirror. and i see a lot of ribs. and those collarbones. and my beer gut has completely disappeared. i shouldn't be complaining. it makes me feel like a bit of an asshole.

i should feel grateful and pleased. but instead, i freaked out a little. because i don't want to not be able to eat. i had a few days there, where i had more than one meal when i was hungry. i ate every time i was hungry. but that thing keeps happening where my nerves take over. and two bites in, i feel pukey and force myself to keep eating, but barely.

it's bothering me. i just want to level off. and i'm not. and what's more, i'm living on carbs. it's not healthy, but it's the sure way to put weight on. and it's not even working.

don't hate me for bitching. i know that 99.9% of people bitch about feeling fat. shit, i do it about 75% of the year. but not right now.

stupid boys. making me think. making me nervous. making me worry. making me sweat. one, literally. the rest figuratively.

maybe it's the exercise's fault. i've been biking from the house, which is twice as far as apartment was. i've been having SEX. caloric reduction. energy output skyrockets. scary skinny tea.

tomorrow is brunch with matthew and kit. i'm excited for them to meet and make each other laugh. because they will. and i told her today, he's nothing like chalk, so she won't hate him. or be annoyed by him.

at least, i don't think she will. i suppose it is possible. but he's kinda like a boy version of me mixed with bryan, so she should love him.

alot didn't write me back about whether we're meeting up monday or tuesday. joey never sent that factoid tidbit i asked for. and sam never called.

it's all okay.

because last night was really not okay.

the fallout from joey bailing on me after the craziest high day i've felt in what seems like forever was ALMOST something to send me into a tailspin.

fucking thankfully nina pulled me out of it. bailed me out of it? took the wheel? pulled back on the throttle. pulled me out of a nosedive, just as i was about to land belly first in a fiery crash, in an ocean strewn with boys.

i almost made some mistakes last night. i almost started going through the boys, to see who might want last minute friday night plans with me, since joey had stood me up. not really. i guess i'm still feeling sorry for myself. more accurately, since joey rescheduled to a time when he has more time, more energy, more brain power to devote to fluff like hanging out with me. sweet gesture. but i still wallowed.

i also almost went for a drive, an hour after taking one ativan and a beer to try to nap. not the state i should be in for a long drive. especially not after getting lost last weekend.

i almost did both of those things. and believe me when i say that there was a whole list of other stuff to do as well.

none of it involved sitting home. none of it involved sitting home ALONE.

none of it involved writing about how it all made me feel, thinking about it, and what i wanted to do about it.

it just made me want to run away with a boy and not think about the one i wasn't running away with.

and nina told me to stay home. nina told me to look at what i was saying to her, explaining what i wanted to do. and nina said, 'see what you just said there? THAT is why you need to stay home.'

i'm so glad she was home and available to help me. she kept me from making mistakes of all shapes and sizes, with names like matthew and sam and alot and dulled down road trip.

and i guess the shocker of it was, just how close i was to falling right back into step with a path i walked from 16 to 25. the one where i get so so sad. and feel so super defeated, that i just can't think outside of the next few hours alone.

but she did save me. and it's okay that i almost did it. because that has to happen. i didn't do it. it ended well, even if i took the most indirect path to get there.

it's 414. i'm toasted. if i was tipsy, it would be so much easier. but this will do.

early brunch tomorrow. it will be super fun. as long as no one else bails on me.

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