Par For the Course
I completely destroyed a friendship as of today. No, I really blew it all to shit. It was like I was a kid who played with thousands of pounds of “Silly Putty.” You know, that plastic stuff, bend it, stretch it, the best was pressing it on the funnies and it would make an exact replica!
However, I played with it so much, I needed more and more and more… That led me to an adult who needed “Plastique!” Even though the term is obsolete. What they still use is plastic and soft-like. Yes?
So, I kept on and on, playing with my “Plastique” having no clue what I was doing. Until I met a certain person. We became so close and so intimately tied together. I guess you could call that a “fuse?”
And I can guess you can gather what happened. I really blew it all to shit.
I had to go to a group therapy session today–oh, boy, what fun! I was only hoping I wouldn’t fall apart and start bawling at any point through it. I spoke to my therapist as she took one look at me (she’s really good!) and was WTF?!
We spoke briefly and she asked if I would be okay to attend. I didn’t know what to say but finally thought it might be (uh, yeah) some kind of a distraction.
Now, I’m sitting and drinking beer. Writing this. Maybe Aspie Penguin might work on his huge list of people to follow on Twitter. He’ll need my help for that. I don’t know if I can be of any use to him though.
The Muse summoned me to write last night. Now my Muse? Even if she summoned me now by shaking me so violently my life was at risk, she would remain dead to me. There will be no writing now.
I have intense therapy work re: being a Womb Twin Survivor. Alright. Get really drunk and let the feelings flow while starting with the e-Book I downloaded. Because it’s not like I nearly explode into tears after a few pages. And it’s not because any of it was a problem with all of this. Or my entire life or anything. No, my twin just died. It didn’t “really” have any affect on me. No. My twin was just this little piece of tissue and so was I. Nothing was happening and nothing did happen to me when my twin was lost. WRONG!
Or maybe I’ll just sit here, listen to some music. I suspect you know what type and/or style it will be. And just keep drinking. Hey, I’m “allowed” to be my alcoholic self after losing this person. So to hell with it. Beer is part of my grief process now.
Par for the course? Why do I always fuck up so much and in such massive ways? I guess it’s just par for the course.