used/useless

Sometimes, people are bad. I hate to believe that, but it is true. Some people, I just won't like, and for some reason, that bothers me. I got good and used by this asshole; I hate feeling like a sucker.

So this past Sunday, as people left the theater, and some were inside, John and I went to see a movie, and barely made it 10 feet away from the theater before I lost my shit completely. I wept, I bawled. He stood there, I am sure, not knowing what the hell to do, as I cried. I had the worst headache of all time, and I was so tired, and the complexity of figuring out where our bikes would go should we decide to take the train to Webster Place to see Pirate Radio totally took it's toll on me. Plus all of the shitty feelings building up over the last month or so.

I was annihilated.

I sat on the curb and I even tried to pray, which has helped me out of holes like this in the past, but nothing happened, I didn't feel lighter, all I felt was empty, used up, hollow.

In a horrible moment of frustration I dug my nails into my head and scratched down my forehead and over my eyes, miserable. I only left one little mark, but seeing it on my forehead every day since then has not felt good.

I just watched Hedwig and the Angry Inch, and after watching it for the first time all the way through, alone, I am stuck feeling like I did ...


I never finished that sentence. It's been a few days since I wrote all that and it's been sitting in this open window since then.

I'm doing better now. I'm not great, but a little better. It's hard to be happy in the cold, but I find moments. I am very tired.