I Feel Like That Smile Wants Me Dead

I’ve been putting this off. Like usual. I’ve been putting a lot off. School and lab assignments. Helping with that computer thing for my brother. I don’t know. I just don’t feel like doing anything. What to talk about. There really isn’t much. I’m just trying to take it day by day. Last Thursday I got absolutely shit faced. I avoided drinking for about three weeks. I had been drinking quite a bit and getting drunk was starting to get harder. I heard that if you take a break and come back, the drinks will feel stronger like before. Boy was that the truth. 6 drinks. 5 whiskey sours and some other cocktail the bartender recommended. I like doing that. Have the last drink be a recommendation. I know I get annoyed when customers ask me what I recommend at the deli. I guess I’m a hypocrite. But I think it just adds that little extra flair. I also only get my drink when he’s not busy so he won’t have to deal with my dumbass request and other customers. I think this was also the first time that my memory got spotty when I was drunk. After that 6th drink hit all my memories are kind of vague. I don’t remember when I decided to leave the bar, just that I did. I remember the walk home felt like forever. I remember coming in and I started to boil some water to make spaghetti. Luckily even my drunken brain realized cooking in my state was a bad idea and I turned it off. Then I don’t really remember what happened. I vaguely remember sitting in my bathtub conked out of my mind and drunkingly writhing in the tub and screaming/crying(?). I think. I remember being angry that this was happening and my body wasn’t doing what I wanted. I think. Then I woke up at 12 pm the next day with a slight headache. Apparently I threw up because there was a stain on my sheets and a small amount of vomit in a paper bag I had by my bed. My drunken brain was smart enough to put it there in case I needed it. There was toliet paper in my room and bathroom that had some black gun on it. It was on the floor, so maybe I threw up and cleaned it. Except I can’t find where it was that I threw up. Maybe it was little baby throw ups here and there. It would explain why there was stuff in my bathroom and on my sheets. I don’t know, I just thought it was weird. My rug by my bed was also wet. I guess the whole experience with drinking that much was sort of interesting. I don’t remember feeling good or sad or bad. Just nuetral. Like my body was just moving without much thought to my actions. There was no emotion behind it.

Of course it wouldn’t be a post of mine if I didn’t talk about her. Two drinks in, I did the stupid thing looking through old messages she sent me. They were like 2 years old. Just looking through them she asked how things were going with me and told me that her day went well and that we could definately make plans to meet over the break. Just small messages. I start tearing up. I don’t cry or anything, but just get a little misty eyed. I keep telling myself over and over and over again that she is gone and by doing that I get a bit more numb to the fact. I don’t get sad or angry or anything when I think about it. I just sigh and feel nothing. So tearing up, even a little, really sucks. It means I just haven’t moved on even though I keep telling myself to. The last time I cried thinking about it was when I sent her a large message to her on discord, roughly a paragraph. Just to ask to see how she was doing and asked if she was ok and that I missed her. That was in June. Since then I rarely try to contact her. I sent her a birthday text and voicemail. I try calling her sometimes knowing full well that it will go to voicemail. But that’s it. I don’t bother texting or sending discord messages. While I was drunk and at the arcade I kept making little bets with myself. If I make it to stage 10 in galaga while drunk I’ll call her this week. If I get 20,000 points in skee ball I’ll really do it. I won, but I don’t think I’ll call her anyway.

Now on to the thing I really want to talk about. The thing I’m procrastinating on. Last week on Tuesday during my lab meeting, my advisor asked me to come up with ideas to work on a project that would contribute to the overall project. To finally really contribute. That smile he gave me wanted me dead. I know it doesn’t really, but it sure felt like it. Still haven’t come up with anything. I meet with him tomorrow. Been putting it off and putting it off. This is the same professor that I thought was going to fail me last semester for doing nothing on my directed research and gave me an A instead. Last Tuesday was the first time I met with him since then. Like I said I felt like his smile wanted me dead. Now I’m here procrastinating instead of putting pen to paper. Just like always. Besides that they also want me to help right a paper on the new robot model they are working on. I hate that my name is going to be on it. Because I know I won’t contribute anything important. I’m just on there because. Everyone know it. Time to end it with a song. Been listening to Jack White a bit again. He’s was one of my favorite artists in High School. Still kind of is even though I don’t listen to him as much anymore.