Yesterday, I cut off all communication with my ex. I can't handle him flirting with me and then saying that he was "afraid this would happen." As if I instigated that.... ugh. I digress. I will try not to air our dirty laundry to the public, but let me just say Fuck That Noise.
I also de-friended all of his family and friends, which was hard, but made me feel like now I won't be tempted to go visit his page and go through our pictures and whatever.
After spending a better part of the previous night and morning crying, I waffled on going to a friend's for NYE. I knew there was 0% chance I'd be going to a bar. No one wants to be around the emo dumped girl with a broken heart who's been drinking and is about 99.9% sure to cry in the corner by the end of the night. Especially if everyone is doing that "I'm so happy it's a new year! Let's kiss, my dearest lover!" bullshit. ESPECIALLY SO.
Note: I am back to hating all couples. Wishing ill upon them. Thinking, "Well, that'll probably fall apart." Which is so vindictive of me and not at all who I really feel I am as a person, but FUCK. MY DUDES. THIS BREAK UP IS TORTURE.
During the day I ran some errands (totally forgetting lightbulbs for the third day in a row now) and headed to my friend Nick's house around 8:30 for some bites and bottles. I spoke to my friend in Cali while I made mint chocolate chip cookies.
Side note: On the el to my friend's, I passed no fewer than 2 gaggles of 6 girls each wearing 5" platform heels, minidresses, and even booty shorts paired with thin blazers. BLAZERS. I was wearing tall boots, skinny jeans, a sparkly top, a sweater, and the thickest, warmest, ugliest Columbia coat, gloves, and hat I own, and I still was fucking cold. To sit inside a warm apartment. And I would have felt bad for the girls if they hadn't nearly run me over coming out of the elevator and the train, as if I was a cretin because I didn't have long flowing hair and a swatch of fabric to cover my ass with coordinating toothpick shoes. They probably got frostbite. It was 14 degrees out. PUT SOME DAMN CLOTHES ON. YES, I HAVE BECOME THAT FRUMPY CURMUDGEON.
So Nurse Nick and I rang in the new year together, watching Netflix and then 10 minutes of terrible Chicago news TV. It was our Hermit New Year's, and it was just right for us both.
Of course I spent the majority of my night silently and openly comparing this new year to the year before with my ex, wondering where he was, if he was making out with someone else, who he'd be fucking or kissing or sleeping with or waking up to, and then reminding myself, "fuck that" and being able to hold the "I don't need him" mentality for about 30 seconds before returning to being a sad fuck.
I have zero interest in other people. I don't want to flirt, date, fuck....NOTHING. I'd prefer to stay in my house and go to work, come home, hit the gym, cook, and be a hermit forever. Which is very probable considering my financial situation right now. (Side note: I should have shown more gratitude toward my ex for helping to support my life while we were together. But, moving on....)
Around midnight on NYE, I started getting a migraine, and by the time I got home around 2, it was full-on not-able-to-function pain. I finally got up in the night and swallowed a handful of Advil (I know! I know! It's terrible but I couldn't see straight or even open my left eye!) and finally got some quality sleep around 7AM. Which is why I woke up at 1PM.
That was my NYE. Completely forgettable, aside from the fantastic company I kept, and uninteresting. I, of course, looked at FB to see all my friends with their babies celebrating and talking about staying in on the couch and also watching Netflix, so I didn't feel so alone.
I kind of wished I would have gone dancing. Maybe not necessarily last night, but in general I've wanted to go to smartbar lately for some house music. I miss that part of who I used to be. Not the scantily clad "fucks everything that moves and drinks everything that doesn't" Kerry, but the part that wasn't so overwhelmed by sadness all the time. The part that could function. The part whose house didn't look like the cabinets threw up everything into piles on the floor. The part who repressed and overcame with the springback and naivete of youth. Not the 34-year-old who was so depressed she can't even sit in front of a computer to apply to jobs to move cross country. WHICH IS WHY MY HOUSE LOOKS SO CRAZY.
I just need to get some garbage bags and start throwing things out instead of trying to sell and donate shit. I just want to wipe my hands clean of this year and move on...leave all this behind....all the past three years I spent off/on with a man I thought I would spend the rest of forever with.
Anyway, these job applications aren't going to write themselves.
Third side note: I got rejected from a job yesterday that I don't even remember applying to.
HAPPY FUCKING NEW YEAR.
*sigh*
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