Today was more or less nothing special. I spent my day oversleeping for my classes then being woken up by the maintenance people at my apartment who were here to work on my bathroom. They tore out the wall of my bathroom completely and have yet to complete their work, so my shower is basically a war zone right now. I really hope that they come back tomorrow to work on it, preferably before I go to work at 3. I started on some group work for my class in which we are going to be interviewing members in the community to show how important communication studies is. After I got home, I hung out with my best friend Steven, where we did our yearly ritual of eat too much food and veg out on the couch. As soon as he had arrived I realized I had put my foot in my mouth in one of my previous blogs. You see, I forgot that the internet is never private. And although I was writing from my heart, I called out someone in my life that thinks she knows how I feel, but really she has no idea. She retaliated by commenting on my poem the same lies she has told me the last few years. She must think I’m dumb. I have literally known her my entire life, how can she think she could fool me. All I have to say about it is, schizophrenia is a hell of an illness.
The poems that I posted before this were some ideas for a collection I am working on. They are about a fictional girl named Margot Burge whose parents get divorced at an early age because of her mothers struggles with alcoholism, drug use, and mental illness. It is a reflection of my life, but I did fudge some things to make the ideas different from my own life. What I want is to create a set of poems that would benefit a teenager who has been through a similar situation. I would have loved to have someone that I felt I could have connected with when I felt alone.
After these shenanigans I hung out with Steven, pigged out on Dairy Queen, and watched some Bobs Burgers. After Steven left, I went to the grocery store to get some things to make Tacos, which turned out delicious. John and I then watched the film The Mist, by Stephen King. Now that I am thoroughly freaked out, I am going to take Tiki out and go to bed. Tomorrow marks two whole weeks without smoking a single cigarette. I have even hung out with Steven twice and I still haven’t bummed a cigarette from him. It probably helps that I haven’t really gone out drinking, and most of my friends are nonsmokers now. I can’t believe I smoked for six years.