( I don't know why I want to write this, but I do. )My past therapist recommended that my dad and I do something together to "honor" Mac, or just basically do something special together and remember him. I felt we should go to the beach. So on Sunday we headed to Wildwood. There's something nostalgic about the beach for me. Although the windchill was well below freezing that day, it didn't matter. Just driving there together was enough. On the way there we stopped at a bunch of little antique shops, and outside one of the shops there were a bunch of cats hanging out. They didn't seem to mind the cold or wind. I realized that there were at least three black cats there, and every one of them had their tongue sticking out. It was really strange, but funny. They loved being pet, and seemed to get kind of pissed when I stopped. Their faces were round and pressed in. I always thought Mac was much more hansom than a lot of black cats. When we finally got to Wildwood nothing was open. There were only a few cars around of construction workers. It looked like a ghost town compared to the bustling atmosphere I see there every summer. So we kept going and went to Cape May to The Lobster House. My meal was sub-par. On our whole outing I didn't cry once. Even on the long drive with nothing but our thoughts. I suppose I was done crying for the time being, because the day before I remember looking in the mirror I was actually surprised at how puffy and strange my eyes looked.
I thought school would be hard for me at first, but coming back everything felt the same. The lack of change for me was almost upsetting in its self. On Tuesday after class I knew Rose would be getting a lot of alcohol, and I foolishly made it a priority to get trashed, since I had never actually been before. At first I felt really nice, there just wasn't any room to think about bad things(which is odd I guess), but in the moment it was only the other people in room with me. I don't think I'm making sense any more, I'm really tired. But anyway. I ended up falling out of my chair, puking all in my hair, having the chair fall on me, and then the two guys there dragged me into the bathroom. Not to be gross or anything, but I never throw up. In fact, I've only vomited once, ever. So this was quite unpleasant and strange for me. I don't even remember how long I was in there or how much I puked but when I woke up again Rose was asleep in there with me and it was at least three hours later. I'll never forget how shitty that night was, or how completely horrible I felt for almost ruining their carpet and not being able to clean up after myself. I also have a HUGE ass bruise on my upper thigh and I don't remember how I fell but my the side of my face has also felt hurty for a while.
I know some of my friends would be ready to tsk tsk me, but I already know how much of a dumbass I am guys, for serious.
I had more to write but I think that's quite enough for a while. I kind of focused on the misery that has infected my life lately, while it really hasn't been that bad in comparison to all my other days.