On Gas, Cell Phones, and a sickness with no cure...

So, let's just start with this week=crap. Total crap. I know it's only Wednesday, but hey, let's face it. This week sucks, and I don't look for it to get any better. Actually I think it will simply get worse. I suppose that's the pill I chose to swallow. I didn't realize it would be this hard. After all, I knew what to expect, well, sort of, and only in one aspect. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Back to the beginning of things: Last Friday...

I got a message from him. I replied. He read it, and didn't reply. There was nothing abnormal about these messages. Nothing that is, except that he didn't respond...for three days. Three days. Not really that long in normal circumstances. But when you go from talking for three hours(at least) every day to nothing. Well, it's worrying. And worry was exactly what I did.

Monday. I get a message from him. I read it, and I realize every lie I've ever told myself, I hear them replaying in my mind. I hear me saying half truths. I hear me convince myself of them. I read it again. I am flooded by emotions, fear, anger, sadness, betrayal. Most of these are completely irrational. I respond. Short, quick, cold. And my whole world shatters in on itself, and I don't know how this happened. I should've kept a better watch on myself, and maybe, just maybe ( I will never know for sure) I could've kept this from happening. It didn't have to be this way. I numb the pain, block it from my mind, my heart. I ignore it. I won't let it get to me. Just one more lie I told myself. I go to a friends house, heavily armed with Crown and Bailees and there I assault myself with intoxicating liquids, just enough to allow me to feel it. To be in it. To shot about it. To react to it. To die. Getting drunk on a Monday. Not a good sign. I send him another message.

Tuesday. I get a message from him. He allays my fears. And stirs up my confusion. I reply. It's payday. I cash my check. I go to my second job. I head to a friends house. I run out of gas. The truck lurches. The car behind me is a cop. I have a tail light out. Nothing like adding insult to injury. He runs my info. I have an unpaid parking ticket. Which is now a warrant. Great. Pay it or go to jail. There goes my paycheck. I go downtown. I pay my fine. I go to my friends out. I need a gas can. I need a drink. I need to cry. I get the first thing I need. The other two will have to wait. We have a long talk. I know where I am, I know where I am headed, it doesn't take the feelings out of it. It doesn't dull the pain, it makes it worse. I get the help I need with the truck. I go home.

Wednesday. (today). I don't get a message from him. I have something for him, it's his birthday. I go to a job interview. I force the smile, the laid back professionalism. I make witty remarks, and show my intelligence. I flash that smile, and bat those lashes. I leave an excellent impression. He will give me the highest recommendation, with a push for management. I should be thrilled. But my heart is sick. I feel like the life force is draining into my lungs, crushing the air out them, stealing my breath. My heartbeat is slow and painfully loud, laboured. My eyes are dry, they have nothing to cry, they cry silently. I feel like my soul is dying. I go to see about my phone. It's not going to be easy or inexpensive. I can't do anything about that. I have to get it back. I feel like fighting, but my soul is in slow response. I wouldn't win anyway. I go to work. That's where I am. This place is like a torture chamber today.