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fuck, this month sucked ass.

ok. i'm not as psychotic as i seemed last week. well, i am, but i am really good as suppressing my rage. break it down into teensy weensy leeetle bits and pieces and woah! is it gone? who can tell?

so i saw fred again today, after last week's session where he held open his appointment book and said "we should meet sooner." there was no real progression in my downfall since then and now, except for the fact that i used the word "kill" several times this week. in reference to many many people. he didn't whip out his prescription pad, though, so maybe i used the word "kill" a little too much for reality's sake?

i am actually not feeling so hateful towards myself this week, but very, very paranoid. i don't trust anyone. i don't know what socks has told people, what she's done with other people, what she's planning on doing with other people still. i am furious and perplexed that she would tell people that "WE" have "DECIDED" to "OPEN" "OUR" "RELATIONSHIP" since i don't think one person going out and being a slut, and the other person at home crying is really a mutual decision. oh, wait, isn't that how ALL open relationships "work"?

she was talking in her sleep last night, and i was a little freaked out because it was like she was interacting with my dreams, so i stared at her and asked over and over again in my head "do you love X? do you love X? do you want to fuck X? have you gotten hot over X?" waiting for sleep-her to say "YES" out loud, but not only did she turn over, but i fell asleep before the truth could be revealed.

and of course, my mind has been treating me to a chorus-only rendition of the romantic's "talking in your sleep" all fucking day.

you tell me that you want me...

etc.

i would love for some car to knock me on my ass. damn me for going and buying a helmet and being all responsible and shit.

my boss called a good 15 times this morning trying to get me to go into work for him. i didn't answer the phone, but he has this whole "monday morning" thing. he is absolutely incapable of work on mondays. why? because he's made himself believe it, and because he goes riding on sundays and smokes up, jumps, eats bad things, goes to bed too late. he ain't no young 'un no mores and doesn't take care of himself too well. so every monday morning, i get the phone calls. his desperation today was unbelievable.

oh well, as soon as the schedule changes to make due for one of the mechanic's departure, i will ask, nay, DEMAND my raise so i don't have to cross my fingers that i have enough to cover rent each month. living at half of the poverty limit sucks.

really really sucks.

it means you can't have balls and make decisions about fucked up relationships, even if you were really really ready for it.

nope, not at all.