06.15.02
I cried a thousand oceans
I've said it a million times, but when I'm tired it always seems that the whole world is gainst me, and I'm constantly losing.
After a week of late nights and early mornings and tears and a broken heart and not enough physical activity, Thursday night I came home and crawled in bed at 8.30. I didn't bother with supper, didn't bother to do anything more than brush my teeth. I woke up Friday morning andeverything seemed ok again. I wanted to go to work, and I wanted to smile on the way there, so I did.
Last night Eva and Jill came over, which has become custom and we went to a Brewary Tour which was a fundraier for Ann's soccer team. Her coach is married to a man who used to be Zach's provincial rugby coach. Troy. Who I know based solely on reputation. Not the good kind. The reputation that he cheats on his wife all the time. So because he was there, so were a bunch of his rugby friends.
We ended up going to the Seahorse and getting drunk, laughing and I even got into a punching competition with Troy which I'm really regretting today because my arm is killing me.
Eva is going to call me at noon and I'm going to drive to Windsor with her to trade vehicles with her dad and then we're going to buy lays and fun things for our party tonight.
I've been trying to keep myself busy, and keep things in perspective. Last night Eva, in her drunkeness, told me that I was better than the boys I've been hanging around, that I won't find in them what I'm looking for. That I was goregous and better than the place in which I've put myself. She meant, I think, the place where I'm sad and putting a time limit on my sadness. No kisses of boys for three weeks. No new relationships for three and a half months. She told me to do things based on how I feel.
The problem is, I don't trust my feelings - because my feelings tell me I'm still hurting about Zach. That I want to be with him, but if he said, I'm moving back to Halifax tomorrow, I don't know if I could get back with him. My feeligs are telling me so many different things, and I'm not sure about any of them. Emotions are deceiving.
When people I love tell me how great I am, I sometimes feel as though they're just fooled by the me that goes to parties and has fun. I wanted to take home a married man last night. I didn't, but I wanted to kiss him the whole night. I didn't care about his reputation, I didn't care that he has a baby, I didn't even really care that his wife was there.
And maybe, the fact that my pant size went down again, and the fact that I dye my hair blonde and the fact that I know there's a boy out there who's hurting as much as I am, maybe none of that matters, and maybe the me that people think is so great doesn't really exist, because a girl who is great does not want to take home married men. Does she?
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