Hello Darkness My Old Friend

August 7, 2011

The following thoughts are reinforcing the idea that perhaps I’m more of an asshole than I thought.  I sat in my car with the music off the entire car ride home from my parents’ house to think about this stuff, and here it is now for your reading pleasure.  I think there was more, but these are all I can think of right now.

1.  I didn’t tell my parents that I was going to Las Vegas until the day I was actually leaving.  Then when I came back today, my mom said something along the lines of: “I hope you tell us when you’re going somewhere in the future. Your dad even asked if you were coming home this weekend and you didn’t say anything.  It’s not like we’re not going to let you go; we’re happy that you’re going on vacations.”  The thing is I know that was an inconsiderate thing to do.  But then, I could never tell when they would hassle me and bug me about my trip, so I usually don’t tell them about my trips if possible.  Additionally, I find that often times my trips I take can be unorthodox relative to their perspective of traveling and “fun” so they really can’t relate to what I want to do and where I want to go (i.e. telling them I want to go to Italy alone and my mom responding similar to “wtf?”), and sometimes I feel like they assume I’m lying because they probably think my trip is so bogus (i.e. my mom will make assumptions that I’m going with my girlfriend [she is so incredibly horribly misinformed] or that I’m not actually going to do whatever it is I tell them that I’m going to do).  After my mom told me that, I still had a very hard time deciding whether or not to tell them that I’m going to up to Northern California next weekend.  I really wanted to tell her then after she told me that I should let them know of my trips, but it would still make me look bad that I waited until a week before the trip to tell them, on top of me already taking a trip this weekend–the latter referring more to my parents giving me shit for spending so much money.  They’re going to assume shit, judge me, and nag and I absolutely hate it whenever do that.  Like today, I told my mom I lost $38 gambling and as always, she has to say something negative or mean:  “You don’t even know how to play.  Why’d you play?  You just lose money.”  What annoys me even more is that I know my mom isn’t a bitch like that.  But for some god damned reason, she doesn’t know how to communicate any other emotion when I tell her things like that, and she always goes for the insults and put-downs.  It makes me so fucking depressed and angry.

2.  I acted like a bitch this weekend.  I slept in and couldn’t bring myself to get up and hang out with my friends, I bitched out on multiple occasions regarding girls, and by the end of the trip, I was pretty sick of everything and everyone and am pretty sure I was acting like an asshole.  This weekend was an overdose of everything from alcohol to general debauchery, and being in the presence of my friends under the state of “overdose” I’m speaking of, and being in that own state myself, there was nothing anyone could have done to make me feel otherwise.  What is needed is some nice relaxing alone time after that shitfest.

3.  I’m disappointed with myself.  It’s over but I couldn’t seem to accept it.  It’s easy for me to tell other people to just move on, but I couldn’t/still kind of can’t seem to do it myself.  I guess I needed a definitive answer, and this is as definitive as it’s probably going to get.  To tie this back to the opening sentence of this post– the means of arriving at this fact makes me feel like an asshole and I’m embarrassed for myself to this very moment because I pretty much got this “definitive answer” while I was typing this blog post.


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