I had already made plans for that day to go shopping with J and our friend A. They needed some basics for their Halloween costumes and I needed new pants because I hadn’t changed mine in nearly a month and they were full of holes and spilled whisky. A little background – A’s boyfriend is one of M’s best friends. They make music together and boyfriend indulges M’s bullshit and never calls him out on any of it. Ok. So they come to pick me up ’round noontimes and I’m already drunker than Cooter Brown. I’m also toting a flask filled with vodka, meant to get me through the outing. As soon as I fall into the car I tell them about M’s admission. They’re both seething, but not surprised. They tentatively tell me who said girlfriend of friend is, and they’ve been hearing rumors. Luckily, for the first time in a while I’m able to hold back the vomit. Just a little bile comes bubbling up. Then I yell. This girl is straight up nast. Fat and bumbling and drug-addled. She’s a far cry from my porcelain-dollness that M nearly worshipped, back in the good (?) ole’ days. But really, it’s not shocking. He’s a drug addict, so is she. She’ll obviously indulge his bad habits, not constantly remind him of his potential to be a better man. She offers no chance of pain, as she is not someone he’s afraid to lose. So I bolster myself with this information and J and I return to my house and keep boozing until the bar opens.

The next morning I wake up to a pounding head, a queezy stomach, and a screaming phone. It’s M. He’s called me about 5 times, leaving screaming messages telling me that he can’t believe I “spread his business” and I’ve “ruined everything” and “who write’s someone a letter anyway? What are we, 3rd graders?” (He is) I craft a text message telling his he was right about one thing he’d always said to me – that he was a terrible person. We exchange dumb text messages over the next days with him kind of apologizing and telling me he “loves me” and that I’m his “best friend” but “you can’t help who you fall in love with.” Hah! Tell me about it. These are our last communications, until near X-mas time when he apparently finds out that his new ladylove has been trying to bed his best friend. In the interim I stopped working, started living off of my trust fund, and mostly withdrew from the world. I was (seemingly) incurably sad. I cried everyday until about april. Then I learned I’d been accepted to graduate school and was moving back to NYC to live with G and our friend L. I moved, feeling like I’d been given a second chance. We set up our beautiful apartment, and life was good. On memorial day I had a real breakthrough. G and I were on a trip at my favorite spot in all of NYC – Cedar Hill in Central Park. I was surrounded by happy picnicking families and cedar trees and a city that I loved and was happy to be back together with. I started absentmindedly digging a hole with a rotted root of the Sycamore we were sitting under. G asked me what I was doing. “Digging a grave!” I responded. And then I realized I was digging M’s grave. I didn’t want to kill him anymore, but I wanted him gone. So I imbued a few rocks with my love for him and buried it deep in the ground. I vowed to visit when I felt pangs of missing him, but here beneath the sycamore tree that love would finally rest in peace. When the trip was done I was happy to still feel like I had closed the door on all of that pain. I kept feeling this way in the coming days and week and nothing could bring me down. And then I got a text message from a strange number that said “M (me, M), I’m so sorry for everything. I understand if you don’t want to, but I’d love to talk.” Here we go again!

I’ll be OK with this as long as there’s no truth to those nast rumors that holly is hooking up with chriss angel

So I guess you could say I woke up a little blue this morning. But then I learned that today is Matt Roloff’s 47th birthday and I realized there are some things worth living for, like great television.

http://tlc.discovery.com/fansites/lpbw/lpbw.html

Wednesday Oct 1st

While on the plane I remember that the night before I had drunkenly called the boy (heretofore referred to as “M”)’s best friend/roommate and asked him if he would let me into their house to get all of my stuff. So i go home, change my clothes and head out. I’m feeling fine until I’m standing on his porch. I started shaking so hard I dropped my cigarette twice before best friend/roommate opened the door. Once inside I felt better because I had a mission: I got my dvd player, all of my dvds, a pair of pants, a bong, and a necklace that M had snatched from me and now wore himself. I only lacked a dvd that needed to go back to the video store, and was assured that it would be looked for and returned. So while I left feeling somewhat triumphant, my state of calm was a pretty terrifying one. I CALMLY wanted to put my cigarette out in his laundry basket and burn all of his sneakers, Left Eye-style.

Later I met up with my local bff, J. J and M used to live together and he witnessed some of M’s best freakouts, so he wields the perfect informed combination of sympathy and “fuck that bitch” that every girl needs in times like these. We proceed to go out and get sloshed, where he allows me a rehashing of my doomed relationship and we ask ourself a million versions of “why do we do this to ourselves????” We laugh, we cry, we try and pick bar fights; I’m starting to feel slightly normal. I get up to leave and some bar regular tries to mack on me, but I just take him up on his offer of a hug. Then I go home and cry myself to sleep.

Thursday October 2nd

I wake up hungover and hyperventilating because I’ve been dreaming about M all night long. Wonderful dreams in which we’re happy and doing stupid shit like going to the grocery store. J and I and another friend are supposed to shake things up and go to the dog track (if you don’t know, don’t ask), but we’re all too hungover to move. After the debates we meet up at the bar and get hammered again. I flirt with the dumb bartender who’s usually a dick to me because he knows I won’t fuck him. I run into a friend from high school who is fucking him and for a second think maybe I should just FUCK AND RUN all over this town because I know I’ll never be able to love again.

Friday October 3rd

Feeling pretty good today. J’s birthday. We eat a hilarious dinner and I again drown my sorrows in the drink. Then everyone at the table starts asking me how M is, not knowing that he’s kicked my ass to the curb. I say we aren’t speaking, they say they’re sorry, etc.

Things progress nicely. Good company and good substances are always my Rx for a broken heart. But that irish car bomb to top off 6 glasses of pinot noir and a shot of whiskey was maybe a bit of an overdose. Immediately after that I start composing a text to M, which I have to explain to my friends as just a “memo – you know how snazzy these blackberry’s are! I would never actually send it! Gah!!” Liar! LIAR!! But the text was not all that bad. I just said that he really was one of my best friends and it would be a real shame if we never spoke again. So I did that and stumbled home, turned on some sad music and broke some things that were lying within my reach on the bathroom floor.

I couldn’t sleep at all and woke up hungover and terrified, having to get on a plane in a few hours to fly back to the shitstorm that I knew awaited me. G and I got stoned and listened to some GNR to fortify me and off I went. I cried in the cab and cried in the LaGuardia bathroom and cried on the plane, making the two middle aged businessmen on either side of me hilariously uncomfortable.

While on the plane I was PISSED that I didn’t have anything to write on because writing is usually the only thing that makes me feel better. So I thought more about that and thought that maybe I should venture into this blogging thing to help me sort through the days to come, providing a sort of day to day walk through of what having my heart and soul shit on is doing to me. And maybe someone else would stumble upon it and find a little solace or something to giggle at; either way, here we go.