It’s A Triple Double Kind of Night (rated M for Mature)

And since booze doesn’t agree with my body, I’m talking Triple Double Oreos.

I’m having an extremely bad couple of days, and I’ve come to a part of the WiP where I need to be in an extremely good mood, or at least not a murderous mood, to be able to write it. Tonight will not be the night for that.

I’m in extreme pain, mentally, emotionally, and physically, and there’s nothing I can do about it but swallow whatever pills I can find to ease the physical pain. But whatever. There was no work done last night, none done tonight.

I’m in the mood to write, but not the scene I need to work on. So no work will be done, unless I want to fall into a lonely pile sobbing, and I did quite enough of that in my car after work last night.

I was fine until I got in the car and turned the radio on. “You and I” by Lady Gaga was playing. Then I broke down, because at least Mother Monster was there for me, and would be. So I sobbed all the way home, those painful sobs that hurt the chest and the soul, to my lonely apartment, with one sad ass goldfish.

It got so bad I had to bring out my little teddy bear that I THINK my grandmother got me when I was born so that I could cuddle and sleep with it.

Fucking pathetic.

But that’s what I have. That’s ALL I have. I’ve made damn sure of that. I don’t think anyone DESERVES to be close enough to me to see my vulnerability anymore. In short, they can go fuck themselves.

So my late dinner will consist of a Lunchable, nicotine, soda, Triple Double Oreos, a Moonpie, and a big bag of chocolate. I’ll eat my feelings tonight, and every night hereafter, because no one deserves to know how I REALLY feel about ANYTHING in this world. I’ll be real for myself. Being fake makes me tired, exhausted, but apparently that’s what everyone wants, so fine. That’s what they’re going to get.

And yes, I DID say Triple Double Oreos.

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