No more Fright Nights. And for anyone that I forgot to email, today I ran my cell phone through the washing machine and lost everyone's numbers. Also, Hipster is no more, and was kind of a jerk yesterday, really. I'm less sad about the absence of him than about the way I was dealt with ... left feeling like he'd rather hang out with anyone but me, and like he's yet another man who's only capable of being nice to me when he's drunk. Or maybe it's about the unfulfilled promise of sex. Or maybe it's that I really liked him and now I don't even feel like we're friends anymore. Same goes for H.W.S.R.N., by the way.
So I bought a new phone, went out and bought cigarettes, and then came home and started chugging vodka and swallowing pain pills. I'm a rock star without the talent. How pathetic is that?
Last night, as David was leaving the party, he told me "Don't wear it on your sleeve" and I replied "What?" His answer was "Your heart." So I quoted Dorothy Parker at him: "I wore my heart like a wet, red stain ..."
Which is who I'd rather be anyway. I'd rather be genuine and open than be playing some sort of fucked up guessing games with Hipster, with H.W.S.R.N., with anyone. My heart is officially on my sleeve, like the big, bloody gunshot wound that it is.
Thanks to bishopjoey for the text message, and to caelidh for responding to my email by calling me. I'm sorry we're both so sad. It's mind-boggling that we as humans all seem to have such a hard time taking care of each other. Antiochians are beautiful, beautiful people and I wish like damn there were more of us out there.
So please, everyone, can't we share our love? Can't we wear our hearts like wet, red stains and just say damn the consequences?