You know that feeling when you’re riding in a car, high off your ass, and you’re listening to a song that just expands your mind and gives you goose bumps all the way from the bottom of your spine to the top of your head and everything in front of you feels like a music video to your life? God, I wish this feeling would last forever. No worries, no cares, no thoughts, just pleasure.
Everything just needs to slow down, just every now and then. I need this.
I have my best friend by my side, a coke bottle full of liqueur in my lap, a bubbler in the cup holder, and no real destination, just south. As far as I know, we are heading to LA in hopes for round two of an already ecstasy filled weekend.
We all need this. We all need to escape. I’ll deal with work. I will even deal with getting fired if it comes down to that. But I will deal with it another day. I am too far gone to care, and not just due to my location.
Music, man. Ain’t it a trip?
What can you do when you’re not happy anymore? Why is it that nothing is fun anymore, and how can I get back all of the joy I used to have? Everything used to be good, life felt like sunshine all the time but now everything feels like winter in Alaska, constantly. All at once, all of the things that filled me with warmth and exuberance now fill me with hatred and frustration; just endless darkness.
I used to laugh at everything, all the time. I would randomly break out into song and dance whenever I pleased. I smiled and giggled and was always full of cheer. Now I’m just a bitch. I am always a bitch; to my boyfriend, my family, my friends, and sometimes to strangers. Instead of being light-hearted and non-judgmental, I have become cynical and indefinitely irritable. It’s like everything I used to see and love in people has become total shit to me. I don’t even know what to blame at this point. It could possibly just be that I am perpetually premenstrual since my abortion last month, but I don’t normally get PMS and I think my bitchiness has been going on for much longer than that. I could blame the 90+ mgs of Adderall I take in a day or my new job that demands every ounce of energy out of my body on a daily basis, but, whatever is to blame, it’s making me destroy all of my close relationships.
For example: my boyfriend, Dan, whom I love to flipping death. I once found him to be an absolute adorable delight, now everything he does finds a way to annoy the fuck out of me or piss me the fuck off. Why? I know it’s been a long relationship and we’ve both changed a bit due to the past three years we have spent together. But that’s completely my fault and I feel bad about that, I really shouldn’t be such a bitch. I think the problem with our relationship is that we’re drifting apart but both of us are too afraid to admit it. That thought alone sends me into an anxiety inducing spiral of guilt.
I love my boyfriend. My boyfriend is my best friend and my lover all rolled up into one cute little ball of punk, but he’s completely dependent on me (not financially or physically,) but in every other way possible and I can’t help but to blame myself. And not just for that, if he hadn’t of met me, if I were not in the state I was in and in need of shelter he probably would be living a much better life right now. Not that our life together is completely horrible, we did move from Florida to California and that in itself is a step in a better direction, but he would probably be living a more stable life without ever having known me. I know that chance and fate are all taken into factor, if you believe in that sort of thing, but if we had never met, I believe that my boyfriend would be much better off and he’d still be the cute kid I fell in love with, not some punk with an attitude problem. And yes, kid. He was sixteen when we met, I was 21. I was on my own path of self-destruction that knew no boundaries. The only way I can explain it is I was basically a tornado of shitiness and I did not care who got caught in my shit storm. If I had never introduced him to my friends or my lifestyle he wouldn’t be shooting up, or drinking, or doing much of anything other than smoking weed and playing video games and finishing up school. Instead he’s basically a high school drop out with an insatiable need to get fucked up and I feel completely responsible. But that’s not why we are constantly fighting or why I get so irritated with him ( except for the attitude problem part, also he’s suborn as fuck and won’t admit that I am ALWAYS right.) I don’t know what it is exactly that has changed in me.
We’ve been together for so long now that I’m afraid to let go. Not only that, I’m afraid of what will happen to him. At least I encourage him to go to school and get a job and to grow the fuck up. His own family has always been too wrapped up in dealing with his sister’s constant manic attacks to give him that much support. I am also still very much in love with him and the thought of him fucking other sluts drives me completely nuts. And I know, because he fucked someone recently when he was in Florida visiting his family and “getting his shit together” while I was pregnant with his kid. Needless to say at this point I’m sure, but being the responsible young adult I am I did not keep the kid, but Dan did come back to help me out and he brought back the perfect gift for me; Chlamydia.
We’ve been through a lot, and we’re still going through a lot, but I love him. I just know deep down in my heart that we’re not good for each other in so many ways but we can’t let go. I was his first love, his first fuck, and now I’m his worse asset.
I don’t know what to do with myself. I just know that it’s hard for me to find happiness now-a-days. It’s not just my relationship, but that does play a huge part in my life. My theory about this whole “growing up” thing is that we start off as a baby, a simple new born to the world that only knows two emotions, happy and sad, and those emotions are based on a instinctual need for warmth, a mother’s love, food, and shelter. But then we start to grow up and we begin to learn about a whole array of emotions and the means needed to satisfy them, but those means are not as easy to obtain and so it becomes harder and harder to achieve happiness with every passing year of our lives until we die. Sure, I still get happy, and I still feel love and feel loved at times, but I’m mostly just contempt, and I think that is the one true emotion that growing up gives consistency to.
So, even though I’m a major bitch, for now I am contempt with life.
On a side note, I promise that everything I write will not be such a downer piece of work. I’ve just been in a weird place.
Hi, my name is Nikita. I am 24 years old and I am living the life of a responsible young adult.
I don’t even know where to start.
Let’s see, I am currently sitting in my room, high off my nuts on Narcos, and watching my eighteen year old boyfriend of three years spaz out over a pack of cigarettes that my klepto, drug-addled little brother may or may not have stolen. Watching my boyfriend opening and closing all of my dressers and babbling on about a fucking pack of cigarettes is making me want to pull out all of my fucking hair. Life is nothing short of mother-fucking-peachy-keen.
Hands down, I cannot even think of a better way to live.
Life as a 24 year old aspiring actress/singer living with her divorced parents, two fully grown adult brothers, her boyfriend, and one of her brothers’ girlfriend (the other one is gay and daddy won’t ever allow himself to accept that fact, let alone have a significant other of his live amongst us,) in a house ran by a tyrannical, self-righteous, ignorant dictator feels like a dream come true.
I know, I know, any well-adjusted human being of my age would have probably made several life decisions by this point to avoid this perfectly tragic position in life that I happen to be in, but thank science that my genetics gave me a healthy dose of bi-polar disorder, with a side of acute anxiety disorder, a splash of attention deficient disorder, and a bit of a tendency for substance abuse. Basically, long story short, I’m a poor little rich girl with a bit of a drug problem. Whatever.