Thanksgiving was interesting. I didn't know how I'd take it, this being the first real holiday dinner without him. At least I didn't have to put up with his fucking mother and her family bullshit. That was nice. I really won't miss her controlling my fucking life, and I hope the new fried-chicken girlfriend (if she makes it that far) really enjoys the fucking insane crap that woman can pull.
Also, I decided as a rightful adult I could now get tanked for the occasion, and that helped immensely, along with the joint Tommy and I smoked before we went in. My mother's absolute asshole of a boyfriend was much more tolerable through the haze, and the thanksgiving-in-a-box that we had didn't even suck too, too hard. Or at least I was hungry enough to eat it. Either way. The pies were very good. My mother decided Tommy was to make pies, and he did, and they were just like pies should be.
When we were done I came home and passed out until 2 am. I really have to get this sleeping schedual shit worked out again. I have to go in and do a presentation on that horrible paper I wrote next Wednesday. I realized I forgot to even mention my mom graduating from college...I can't *wait* to deal with that in class. Oh well though, I think it's painfully obvious I'm a complete fuckup this semester, and I dont know that I care entirely too much. I just want my peice of paper.
Instead of working on my project though, I sit here and work on CDs for Jon while I obsess over my conversation with JC last night. I finally told him about fucking Jon. He was quiet for about a minute, then he changed the subject entirely. I'm no expert on men and their minds, so I'll make no reading on what the hell he was thinking, but I've got to wager that meant something. I hope that something was painful. I feel bad that he has a new girlfriend more than I would be upset than if I heard he was just fucking someone, because that implies much more of an emotional connection. On the flip side of that token, I'd be willing to guess that because men are so sexually oriented, he'd rather see me in a relationship with someone new, than just fucking Jon because I could and because I wanted to.
Maybe I'm totally wrong though. That's what I hate most about myself. I'll just keep blah blah blah blah around and around, from one side, then the other. "I'm a complete useless whore who he never thinks about"..."I'm the brenda to his nate and he's going to have some sort of a mental breakdown because he misses me". Inside I know it's neither. Though he couldn't bring himself to say he still loved me, he also couldn't manage to say that he didn't. Every time I tried to make him just out and say it so maybe that final stab would jar me back to reality (if there is such a thing) he fucked off and got quiet or said something enigmatic about not knowing all the answers or what the future could bring.
All in all it gives me just a tid bit too much hope, but that's me. I'll keep making up rescue scenarios until the bitter end and I almost like it that way. It gives me something to wrap my mind around as I fall asleep, and something to hope for while I bumble around during my waking hours. And in the mean time at least holidays will be a bit less stressful.
