Wringing

It is a twisting gut wrenching feeling resting in the pit of my stomach. Twiggy Fuck haunts me and I can't figure out how to deal with it. I am disappointed in myself for not being more direct with him but I did not want to be brutal, which is within my nature.

I am lost in my own mind of confusion. Last night I was caught and asked by Boat Boy if everything is ok. I don't know. Is it the med adjustment that is making me feel this way, or something more concrete? The last round with Lamictal left me wanting to suck CO off the end of my tail pipe. Today there was a creeping desire to cut. Where is this coming from? I am angry with myself for stumbling into another bedroom too quickly and not allowing myself to be alone. Is this desire brought about by the meds or the situation? I can't put the pieces in their place and I don't even know where they belong. I wish it would make sense, but it doesn't.

Teasing it out now as I write I am leaning more and more towards the meds. I will introduce Cymbalta to see if that doesn't level me out some. Of course I meant to take it tonight before work because there is a stimulant effect, but my life being the cluster fuck it is, I forgot. The situational piece of being broke and ending it with Twiggy Fuck, being a dumb fuck about Southern Boy and then stumbling across Boat Boy, well... It's all just a bit overwhelming.

My emotions towards Twiggy Fuck were dead and processed even before I left for Italy. By the time the trip rolled around it was only about survival. I am pissed I have left another one in my wake. Twiggy Fuck is not the first to make desperate attempts to win me back, and I know that is a big contributing factor to my funk of a mood. If my life was a movie, the audience would scream, "Dude, just give up already!"

Grandeous over the top jestures have never worked to win me back. It only makes me feel like a whore, and upset that the someone I shared part of my life with didn't get to know me well enough to know they wouldn't work.