Re: Taking Back Certain Words: September 17, 2009

I had stopped reading my horoscope after it told me several months ago I was going to be pregnant by the end of the week. However, I was bored the other day and wondering what the stars had in store for me...so I read it. My horoscope informed me that of all the days of the month, September 17 would be the absolute worst. I let it roll off my back, of course, then clicked over to the NY Times instead.

Yesterday sucked...like really really bad. I was rejected by a literary agent who was interested in my manuscript. Seems I haven't brought my work up to a "marketable" status yet. I firmly believe I was born to write, so this cut really deep and forced me to stand in the bathroom and cry. Trying to make amends with the situation and pick myself up, I went out. We went to a bar where the DJ sucked. I asked him if he took requests, and he said no, so being a fucking bitch, I told him he sucked and that he had the worst taste in music. Granted, both of these were true, but I didn't need to say it out loud. The DJ came up to me and yelled and reprimanded, and told me I was rude...as he should have, I mean, I would've done the same. Turns out he was friends with the bartender, who also came up to me and yelled at me and told me to drink up and leave. Being a bitch who had her heart pretty much broken earlier that day, I smashed my beer bottle on the floor and left. These are not the actions of a stable, sane person...

Then to add insult to injury, I spent some quality time on the corner of Second Street and Avenue A talking to Swede. I betrayed Swede a few weeks ago, I did an unforgivable thing that has clearly damaged our friendship, and even if we were to move on, the scar would continue to still be there as a reminder...and it's not going away...scars are permanent, you see. The worst part is, and anyone who's been reading these knows, Swede means the world to me. I love him and care about him so deeply that there are no words for it. He is one of my best friends and one of the few people in this wretched city whom I actually give a damn about...he's my touchstone, my soul mate, he's my favorite. He's my voice of reason and one of the few people who calls me out on my indiscretions...he knows I only wear lip gloss to make up for the fact that my hair is so short, even though it's not my style to wear lip gloss...and he fucking points it out to me when no one else would even notice. Swede and I are fated to be friends, just friends forever, and to know that I jeopardized it and having to hear it again this morning at 230am was heartbreaking...but I deserved it...I deserve to be yelled at for my actions. I was wrong for what I did to him.

Some days I think I'm in love with Swede then it passes. Some days I wish I had never met him so I wouldn't have to know what it would be like to live without him. Most days I'm just grateful that I found someone who actually gets me and puts up with my shit.

So I went home drunk and crying. I fell up the stairs and scratched the fuck out of my wrist. I laid in my bed and I cried. I cried at the thought of never making it as a writer. I cried at the thought of losing the one thing I really love in New York: Swede. And now, I'm hungover as fuck. My eyes are puffy from crying. I've been throwing up since 8am and my heart feels like it's broken in several little pieces and they're just sort of floating around in my rib cage trying to make it right again.

All that being said...let's try to make this day bearable, ok? If something breaks, please try to fix it yourself...I'm a wounded bird today, and am too broken to fix anything...including myself.

xo.Mandy.