I’m awake. I feel like something out of ‘they live.’ I didn’t get much sleep last night. I did manage to eat nearly half a pizza and a full jar of nutella last night. promptly, puked upon waking. The God’s be Damned, I’m taking a ritalin. I was going to try to be drug free this week. But, I feel like death. Now, I’m going to get blood drawn to prove I’m immunized. I feel like beating on someone or something. I realize that’s just the way I feel in the morning. I need a punching bag, a cigarette and some place to lay down and cry. I really hate mornings.
The time is ticking. I have one week to get all my shit in order for the nursing program. I need a physical, my immunizations, get insurance, get a drug test, write an essay on why i deserve a scholarship and most of all I’ve go to have my mom show me how to take blood pressures, pulses and vital signs. I want to know something before I start. But, above all else I have to do this totally sober. This is my week of rehab before I completely change my life. This is the week that should probably be spent at a spa talking about my problems with a trained therapist.
I’ve been pot free for almost two months. All I can do is pray that i gave it enough time to get out of my system. I regret not quitting six months ago. I hope I didn’t fuck up. This week, I’m getting clean from xanax, ritalin and alcohol. I have prescriptions for the pills and I know alcohol doesn’t stay in your system an entire week. But, I’m doing my best to take all precautions.
This will be my first week sober from all drugs for over 12 years. I’m really going to wish I had therapy. Even, if I wanted to take a xanax or ritalin, I won’t have any for at least two weeks. I took the xanax because I’ve been dying for sleep. I’m manic. I can’t sleep for the life of me. I took the ritalin to study all day. It worked. I got an ‘A.’ But, now my pills are gone and I’m just up shit creek without a paddle.
I don’t know how I’m going to survive sobriety. I don’t know how I’m going to get through Day 1. I know I’m going to get on the treadmill. I know I’m going to doodle. I know I’m going to write. But, I’m going to be sober. I’m terrified. I have to teach myself an entirely new way to live. All I’ve got to get me through the day is caffeine and nicotine.
I have half a beer until I start this new sober life. I’ve pushed it all the way to the bitter end. I just have to tell myself that all things are possible. I can do this. I can live a clean life.
I’ve been having a ten year long affair with a guy named buster. God, that feels good to say out loud. For years, our sleeping together was my dirty little secret. He was my guilty pleasure. He had a girlfriend. I had a boyfriend. We did every aspect of the love triangle. We made love squares. We pushed it to the limit and made love pentagons.
The problem is, somewhere along the way I actually managed to fall in love with him. He isn’t handsome. He isn’t brilliant. He has a giant ego. He’s still trying to find a girl that is a ten on the attractive scale. He want’s the 90 pound girl with giant fake tits, a sports car and daddy’s money. He wants to date this perfect girl and still hang out with me. Above being fuck buddies, we are friends.
When I was dating my last boyfriend, I ended our relationship. As much as I wanted to keep buster in my life, I knew it wasn’t safe. If my boyfriend at the time ever found out I was cheating, he would probably have killed me. Buster, was furious. We’d just had an epic fuckfest. He drove to my house late at night and we went into the garage and had wicked sex on the dirty bare floor. It was the kind of sex only long time lovers can share. I thought it was going to be the last time we were together.
When I broke up with ben, I decided to push my luck and see if I could get back into buster’s life. It worked. We picked up right where we left off. It feels kind of strange. Neither one of us has a boyfriend/girlfriend. Things are different now. I can’t risk drinking and driving, so I have no choice but to spend the night. After all these years, it feels so strange to sleep in the bed next to him. Of all the men I’ve ever slept with, I’m the most comfortable with buster. I don’t worry about being too fat. I don’t worry that my hair is a mess and my legs are half shaved. I’m just myself.
We talked about our relationship. It was such a strange talk. I was giving him head. He asked if we could make our gimmick a weekly routine. I felt like telling him that was all I ever wanted. I admitted that the best sex we ever had was when one of his girlfriends left us alone to go get arby’s. I made him promise not to quit sleeping with me if he gets into another relationship. I promised to do his laundry and some serious deep cleaning around his house. My only clause in the talk was that he had to buy cleaning supplies. He needs ten magic erasers and some toilet bowl cleaner. I secretly wonder, if he’ll ever get tired of chasing after gorgeous women? I wonder if he would ever just be happy with me?
A friend of mine teases me, that I’m going to end up marrying him one day. I could accept that. I’m still holding out for a fat, dorky boy that likes to collect comic books and read fiction. My dream boy likes the smiths, sharpies, stephen king and star trek. He’s out there somewhere. Till I find him, I’m going to continue to have a torrid relationship with buster. I haven’t seen him in almost a week. I’m having withdrawals. When I had a cell phone he would randomly text me ‘cockmeat sandwich’ from harold and kumar. That was our code for do you want to meet up and do bad things