Fear and (self) Loathing in Vancouver

So, I realize that my dramatic post yesterday was a result of a hangover from hell. But guess what? I'm still hungover today, still feeling like shit and still wishing I could crawl under a rock and die. So you can guess what that means. More depressing dramarama from yours truly.

It all started this morning. Ever had this happen to you?

You wake up the next day and for a second or two, before your groggy mind can process anything, you think that everything is right with the world.

And suddenly it hits you that, no not everything is right with the world, in fact, your whole world has been turned upside down into one big pile of shit.

I've had many of these moments throughout my life and this morning was no exception.
I realized what transpired over the weekend and what it means for me. Frankly, I'm not sure exactly what it does mean for me and that's probably what fills me with stench of fear. That, or I forgot to put on deoderant in my numb state.

The thing is, I knew that this was going to happen. I was happy for once and content in my life and where it was going. Hell, I was waking up with a smile on my face every morning and thanking the Lord for a beautiful day. I was having the greatest time of my life. But, whenever something is going right in my life, there is always something that comes along and ruins it. Of course, like this time and most times, that something is me.

Which brings me to my self-loathing stage. I don't know how long I plan on staying in this stage, beating myself up over things that can't be undone. I don't like this pity party but since there is no one else to blame, I can't help it. Everything was going so well...

But yes, thanks to me, I've probably undid all the good things I've ever done, whether it be in the last 2 weeks or 8 months or whichever, and I've obliterated a lot of happiness from my life. These facts then lead to self-loathing and the question: why, when the going was so good, did I have to throw it all away? Why the hell did I have to be such a fuck-up?

Anyhoo, sorry about this pity party post but I'm obviously still upset. Which is silly since really it's Ross who should be upset (and is and probably will be for awhile). I don't expect anyone to feel sorry for me when they really should be feeling sorry for him. Well, not sorry for him, because no one wants pity, but if anything I deserve a few public kicks in the crotch and not the sympathy I have received. But at the same time, I don't feel like I have the right to just shake this off and move on. I need to feel like shit for a while.

I am going out for a good-bye dinner with him and his parents tonight. Although common sense tells me to stay at home and give him time and space, I want to go because I didn't get to say goodbye to them yesterday, and I dont want them to leave with the impression of me as an Ozzy Osburne Zombie. And I don't want to further undue any good impressions I may have made (although I'm not sure any of my impressions have been good, especially when all they are going to remember is that I drive like an idiot, shake like Ozzy and have a crazy mother). Anyway, I'm looking forward to some groveling, followed by a touch of awkwardness, distantness and small talk (all of which I deserve and understand). Probably will need a drink to take off the edge. OH WAIT. I can't do that.

Anyways, I'm done. I know it can't be too much fun to read these self-loathing posts (unless you are trying to feel better about yourself, and if thats the case, then enjoy), but I promise that my next post will be about whales. Whales??? Whales!!!