slap out of it

It's the middle of the night and once again I am not even close to sleep. I have a wicked hangover that is still lingering from vodka I drank twenty four hours ago and I am depressed and feeling foolish. Let me take a few steps back: I have recently made some bad decisions. And I recently learned some information that makes my previous decisions, the ones that I was complaining about last blog post, also seem pretty bad. Decisions involving P, and my ridiculous affection for him. Decisions regarding most men that I have met on this planet and my interactions with them, really. But let's try to take it one step at a time.

Let's recap this so far: I can't sleep. I am sad. I make bad decisions.

Bad decision number 1) meeting a cute boy with great ideas. no wait, that was a good decision. where does this decision go awry? going out with aforementioned boy for drinks: still all right there. going back to boy's house: eh, that's fine. almost crying at boy's house when he inadvertently delivers some upsetting news about your previous paramour: we-ell that probably makes the list but it wasn't so much a decision as an emotional reaction (a stupid emotional reaction). sleeping with boy an hour or so later even though the pit of your belly was twisted with nagging melancholy: oh look there it is. probably shouldn't have done that.

The upsetting news was genuinely upsetting. I think. I might just be creating dramatic mountains out of molehills. I do that. Anyway, the upsetting news was that essentially P was having the same sort of adventure that he had with me, an adventure that I thought was unique to us, and he was acting in much the same way he had in our adventure. So it was upsetting, right? I can be upset? I mean, it kind of shows me that the specialness that I attributed to our relationship was false. in my head only. He may have been a rare person for me to encounter, but I am one of a plethora. And I don't even think he was genuinely that person. I think I was played. I think it was all his game.

So now what? I don't like this new boy, because my brain is mush. I would really enjoy my brain getting back to normal. Is it possible to just decide to be happy again? Make an executive decision to stop caring about P? Just man up and slap out of it? I'm going to try.