Mine is Quite Big Enough
Below are 10 entries, after skipping 10 most recent ones in the "The Legend of Bentley" journal:
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Fortress of Solitude|
Stacey left today, so I'm officially living alone.
So I decided to drive up to my parents' for Christmas. I mean, hey, I'd only been up since 11 PM the night before, why not?
Yeah. So. Very. Tired.
Now to see if I can sleep.
What kind of idiot am I?|
This kind. I dropped my cell phone. Into the toilet. And was unable to get it out. With tongs.
I've got a call into my maintenance man friend, but he won't be up for a while. And I don't know if the thing will work after this. I can hope.
Man, this will make getting a job slightly harder, since I don't even know my fucking house number.
Anyway, folks, I didn't have most of the numbers written down, so I'm gonna need some. firstname.lastname@example.org.
Jesus. I hate waking up at 5 in the damned morning and having stupid shit happen.
Here We Go|
You ever get to that point in our life when you don't know what day it is? I don't want to come off sounding like The Big Lewbowski, but today, well, I suppose it's yesterday now, I honestly thought it was Saturday, not Sunday. It happens.
Which means mostly that I've been out of work too long. Time for a report.
Friday the old ex girlfriend cancelled packing her stuff, then called me back to reschedule an hour late. "We got distracted", which translated into something, one more thing, I didn't want to hear. Set it for 7:30 Saturday morning. She made it 20 minutes late, packed her stuff, promised to be back around noon to get her shit out.
Amazingly, it happened. She called me to let her in that morning. She packed her shit. I'd had 3 hours of sleep, but still managed to stay up for it all, negotiating the occasional item, but mostly repeating the mantra in my head, "no price too high to get rid of her." Then she came back a few hours later to load it all up and leave. Nothing too bad. She took all the wastebaskets...
So let's just focus on this for a second. She's got all of her crap out of the house. She's gonna sign the necessary paperwork on Monday, Gods willing. She's actually going to be out of this. Oh. My. God. It's actually going to be done.
. . .
I need to do three things. First, have a "ding dong the witch is gone" party. Second, get a damned job. Third, get a saucepan, since she took most of the dishes. Everything else can wait.
I got what I wanted. I got her out, I got her out of my life. I'll soon have her out of my life legally so she can get her damned payoff (I'm paying money to get her out). I've got an amazing girlfriend who... I don't even know what to do with, she's so great. So what the hell am I feeling?
My mother puts it down. Live alone for three months. no roommates, no nothing. Be alone. Work, and exist. She echoes what most of the people in my life say. If you can't figure that part out, you're fucked. And as much as I love Sam, I'm not moving her in right now, for a variety of reasons, mostly beyond my control. And so I shall.
So, I suppose, the Great Crisis is mostly over. now we'll see how well Matt recovers. Here we go. Happy Monday.
Set things in motion. I'm insane, and admit it.|
A significant confrontation with the ex's boyfriend. enough violence to warrant assault charges on the criminal. Who, I might add, completely dissed my peace offering this afternoon. Nice. I'll save that for tomorrow. Perhaps.
I don't know if this was good or bad. Probably bad. But it definitely sets things in motion. Because this static shit was going to drive me to suicide.
Ah, btw, thanks to everyone who responded to my plea earlier. I need to remember to mention when I make those requests that my phone number's on my info page.
Plea for babying.|
At about midnight, a little earlier if things go weird, but I think midnight, I'm going to begging anyone, anyone at all, to call me.
Listen. it keeps getting worse, and I'm so afraid of being alone. And I know how very needy that makes me sound.
I guess it's your call if you think I need support right now, or you think I need to learn to deal with being scared and alone.
But the lawyer said I'm fucked, and I'm going to be doing this for the next few months, and I think... it's okay for me to be scared.
Somebody kick my ass for even posting this?
Matt's having his nervous breakdown this week|
You know? Fuck it. Details. Why the hell not?
I have a new girlfriend. I've been seeing her, when I can, for a few months now, she's an old friend, and we've just recently really decided we want to be together. She's...
Quite honestly, she's just about the only thing that makes my life worth living, who makes me feel like I'm worth being alive. Yep, declared love, and it's awesome.
But like I said, she's the only good thing in my life. Last weekend, I got out of town for a few days into Casper for a VD test (if one's gonna start dating again, one should be responsible) and Misty, the now-ex-gf, found herself a few boyfriend. Which, on one hand, is a good thing, because it means she's not pathetically begging me for sex anymore, but on the other hand, means that she's having him over to the house to fuck every chance she gets, which she claims is a lot, and she likes to give me numbers ("I wore him out last night"), my house, and I'm having a little trouble dealing with it.
What? I was with the girl for six years, so yeah, I'm gonna have a little trouble. I mean, it's not too bad, I'm only lost my job and puked twice...
Yeah, that sounds as bad as it is. It's been very, very hard.
But since she's been bringing him over and, I'm pretty sure based on the lack of evidence in the trash, fucking this white supremesist biker boy bareback, and yeah, that bothers me, she's given me her permission to bring my girlfriend, the girl I've fallen in love with over, and so I have three times this week.
Sadly for me, between Sunday and last night, I wasn't... able to cum. I fucked okay, but lost it before my ending. Happens when all's not right in my head.
And last night, oh last night, I very carefully and closely made love to her, not fucking, making love, gorgeous love, and finally, finally, was able to allow myself a release. It was so intense I started crying there on her shoulder as I did it. A bunch of the feelings that I've been needing to release coming out, not all of them, and I stifled some of the crying later because hey, crying's not sexy, but I've really been having a hard time with no way to express it, and her letting me be with her, that helps immesurably.
I am so fucking in love with her. I'm not gonna say if she's the One right now, because I don't know, but as far as her helping me split up with Misty, and now dealing with the aftermath... She one of the best friends I've ever had, and the only friend who just wants to listen and not say I Told You So about her, and really help me work through it and get the hell over all this. Because it is so very hard for me. Really, I'm a fucking wreck. No offense to any other friends trying to help me, she's just doing a better job. And probably, for the most part, you're just too far away.
She doesn't make it all go away, but she does make it tolerable when she's with me. She's patient enough to be okay with it not all going away, and to wait it out with me. She makes me feel so much better, and I really don't know what I'd do without her right now.
And I wanted to tell you all that I love her, that I'm in love with a wonderful girl, and that I'm in so much pain right now that I don't know what to do, except let her be with me, every chance I get. I so love her, so very much.
Okay, sappy over, gonna try to add an hour or two to my three hour's sleep tonight. Because they were back there fucking in the room I set up for them, for her, since I decided to stop letting her have my room, and I have a rough time sleeping through that.
See you all as soon as I can.
Was that you on the line, baby?|
Hey kids. Somebody left me a voice mail today, singing Blondie's "Call me" quite nicely, but left no name. And see, I was out of service, so I didn't get a missed call. My first two guesses went flat, and it could be just about any girl I know, or a guy with a good falsetto, so if you're on here and gave me a ring... sorry, I can't call you back. No idea who to call. Anyway, let me know.
Yes, the life is still miserable. Doing everything I can, short of being illegal, to get her out of my room, my house, my life. Haven't been eating much, stressed, these things can go badly as she's hell bent on having it go either all her way or badly. Doesn't help that she weaseled her name onto the house title (it was supposed to be just me, it was sold to just me) and the clerk's not fixing it, so either she signs it over willingly or I have to take legal action. And the police won't do anything about it or anything to stop her from breaking the door of my room down if she feels like bugging me. And most of the time all I want to do is sleep, and she's still taking my money and everything she can. So yeah, stressed, miserable, exhausted, fighting to end it. I'll be around.
Current Mood: exhausted
Current Music: Firewater - secret
Livejournal. Yeah, it's fuckin' live now, isn't it?
When you can judge, within three months, how long a cop's been on the force, either you're far too astute a student of human nature for your own good, or you've had far too many visits from cops at your house.
I don't even want to go into the title problems with the house.
oh. my. god.
anyone mind having an orgy with me here, in the bed she insists is hers still to sleep on, whether i'm here or not, just to convince her that she doesn't belong here any more?
no... figured not. right. to the ex lawyer boss!
Fucking holy fucking shit fuck. Give me zombies.
don't let us do this anymore|
perhaps. supposed to be, if she keeps this appointment, half an hour before she shows up to talk to me. all leads up to this? kinda. been puking sick nervous for three days, and it won't stop. it won't stop.
jail., suicide, god no, not all this. this is all wrong.
luck. peace. wish me peace at the end.
Knowing when it's not the way|
If the Gods are kind, I will never have to see someone that I care about in shackles ever again. Shackles. Fucking shackles, wrists held at the waist, like an animal for slaughter. I can't fucking believe my eyes. Please god never again.
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