Since I take pleasure in publicizing my ugliest, most-unflattering moments, this gem cannot wait.
Friday February 24, 2012 (last night)
8:55pm
Text from Eavvon:
What bar do you want to meet at?
Text from Jean:
Hmmm I'm in pj's watching Arrested Development and just ate a large amount of baby arugula and chickenless nuggets, but I haven't seen you in ages so let's get drunk.
Text from Jean:
But can we go somewhere that doesn't require me to wash my hair?
Yes, dining on a gourmet dinner for one in sweats is how I spend most Friday nights. In fact, I look forward to my Friday nights in. I spent most of yesterday longing for the moment I'd get home, throw on some slipper socks and start my new book.
Unfortunately, due to various life circumstances, I felt a bit off most the week. I knew staying in alone would inevitably lead to lying in bed online shopping and eating chocolate cake while contemplating why the world hates me so much. I decided I might as well go out and have fun instead of containing myself in a trap of unnecessary sadness.
An hour later, Eavvon and I were at BCC having a grand time. Around midnight, it was time to part ways. I had two options.
1. Go home and get some rest after a refreshingly fun evening.
2. Meet up with my girlfriends, fully cognizant meeting them at that hour could only result in disaster.
It's no question which option I chose.
I couldn't even reach the meeting place without getting myself into a mess.
My friend Katelyn told me to meet her at a party on Jefferson Street in Bushwick. I immediately realized she must have meant Jefferson Avenue when the cab driver dropped me off, sped away and left me alone on a dark street where there was definitely not a party.
It was cold. The little dress I had on certainly was not keeping me warm and every creep in the neighborhood felt compelled to make me uncomfortable. A lifetime of six minutes trying to get a cab, twenty dollars and a few arguments with a cab driver later, I made it to the party in one piece.
Sort of.
The wrong address debacle re-ignited my lousy mood, so I needed to have extra fun. Extra fun required extra vodka. Extra vodka resulted in expressing my dissatisfaction with life by exclaiming, "I DON'T GIVE A F*CK!"countless times to my friends.
I'm not even sure what it was I didn't give a f*ck about. It just felt good to say. I wanted to have fun, no matter how much I hated my life and bursts of vulgarity seemed to boost my mood.
Two hours later, I convinced myself everyone else was exponentially more intoxicated than me. I became annoyed and concluded the night needed to end. We headed to Katelyn's place, where the other girls passed out while my friend Erin made me a delicious egg sandwich.
Naturally, upon my first bite of food all the vodka-infused self-loathing kicked in and my world-hating rants began.
At one point I was sitting on the floor next to an open fridge eating a pickle trying to hold back tears while lamenting to Erin.
We finished eating and I told Erin I needed to go home and sleep in my own bed.
Truthfully, I needed a good cry and didn't think Erin and I had reached the point in our friendship where I could put her through the arduous task of consoling me. I feel no shame in forcing my roommates to join me on my emotional rollercoasters, so I wasted another $20 on a car home.
Thank God I found a bag of chips in my purse to save me from sobbing to the driver.
Finally home safe in my warm apartment, exhausted in every way possible, it only made sense to do every thing other than go to sleep.
So what's a melodramatic, self-loathing 24-year-old female whose distraught over life and filled with vodka do at 3:30am?
I can't speak for anyone else, but I can tell ya what I did.
I called my roommate Alex, who was clearly in bed trying to sleep. I mean, why not just make everyone hate me as much as I hate myself? Ryan was at his girlfriend's being all happy and in love. Their thoughtlessness appalled me. My selfish roommates did not plan their nights in accordance with the possibility I'd need a solid hour to cry about my life to them. My life was a mess and no one loved me.
I grabbed a string cheese to comfort my lonely soul, threw my freshly clean laundry on the floor and got on my computer.
So there I sat, 4am, eating cheese, looking at girls prettier than me on Facebook, blasting Rilo Kiley and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and trying to figure out why the world hates me so much.
That's when it happened.
Since I cried a bit, I went to my bathroom for a tissue. When I looked in the mirror, eye makeup was only smudged on one eye. Only one of my eyes was producing tears. For lack of better words, I could not believe my eyes! This never happened to me before and it totally blew my mind. Finding it absolutely imperative to document this phenomenon, I opened Photo Booth on my computer and snapped some shots.
On top of all the other things I'm terrible at, I cannot even cry like a normal human anymore.
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| This is me circa 4am...crying/trying not to laugh at myself for crying like a baby and documenting the one-eyed tear phenomenon..but also laughing/trying not to cry about how much I hate the world. |
