I'm about to sleep. Before sleep comes there is bad TV. TruTv, to be exact. Do you remember when it was CourtTV? There's some bizarre show on where they have all of these egotistical sheriff's deputies arresting drunken Spring Breakers in a California hot spot. Quite a few of them were not from California. But the sheriff's deputies were stopping people and in many instances found next to no reason for arresting them. One of the drunken students had the GALL to ask if he could remove his life jacket while the boat was docked. The deputy's response? "YOU KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT!"
It gave me horrid flashbacks to the night I'd spent in jail. It's funny, Jenna is the only person who has ever laughed when I've mentioned the fact that I've been to jail. I believe it was probably because it came out very nonchalant. "Oh, that's like when I was sent to jail . . ." Or something like that. It did nothing for my street cred. Not that a New York Times reading, Harper's subscribing, literary and social criticism-loving journal reader like me would be able to garner much street cred. Besides, I've come to realize that the person who sent me there is a bitch, and faked friendship for the sake of filling her lack of minority friendships. I went to jail for a faker who wanted to fill some quotas. Pathetic. I think I did a pretty good job when it comes to replacements. Ex-Best Friend X versus Jenna . . . totally a better trade-off. Jenna's a kick ass ballet dancer whose traveled Europe and lets me hate myself at will! Well, not really, she hates that I hate myself, but she ACCEPTS me. For that, I love her til the end of my time.
As for that other . . . person. I've learned to flick her off like a gooey booger. Finally. It took some time, but I'm glad I was able to get it done. If I had the chance I'd probably send her middle-class ass to jail, see if she could get through it without freaking the fuck out. Let's have someone make fun of her race and her hair--but oh wait, that is the benefit of middle-class-whitedom . . . someone is always, ALWAYS there to bail your ass out. Just like someone will bail these bizarre shits from this TV show out.
Anyway, my point about this was that I realize that most sheriff's deputies are the guys who used to get stuffed into lockers or have their assholes creamed with Icy Hot. And now, with badges, they think they're total bad asses. Power trips.
TO1 called the cops on me. It's a long story. The cops never came though. I think he faked calling to cops to scare me, because, well I behaved erratically. And was blind drunk. Blind drunk and in love are never a good combination with me. If you want to know what I did, ask me, I'll tell you about it. Makes for a funny story, except for the fact that I scared away a really, really fantastic man. I was ready to go to jail again. I just wanted him to listen to me. Just one last fucking time. But no, I never get that last chance to speak my mind. I wanted him to listen to me, understand that an insecure, depressed heart doesn't feel trust. I can trust your snoring in my ear, your hairy thigh against my stomach, and your sleeping face; but I could not trust that the waking you would seek me out with any genuine sincerity. I mean, look at me. I lost you to myself. I convinced myself to do stupid things in the name of what I thought were my heart's demands. I know better now. But I just wish I didn't miss his face.
Even though I've finally managed to feel some anger for the unfair treatment I've endured by people I thought were there for me, and even though I will probably never learn to be there for myself, I know that being physically imprisoned means nothing when you've managed to encase your heart in a stronger cage. Self-loathing is a very, very strong cage. And it's easy to hate yourself when you put your faith in people whose only goal is to stomp on what little goodness is left of you.
I will go to sleep now. And this time I'm going to make myself dream of unicorns. I'm tired of dreams that make me hurt.