Get off my cloud

OK so I just got up, at 5am on Friday. I thought it was 5pm on Thursday and rushed to get up thinking I'd MASSIVELY overslept and had things to do. As I sat down at the computer to get some work done I noticed the date was IN FACT Friday and I got totally spun out that I'd lost an entire day and a half. Then my flatmate popped out of his room. "Why aren't you at work?" I enquired. Well mostly it was because it was 5AM.

So I hadn't missed most of Friday as I had feared, thank fuck, however Thursday went completely missing and I'd not even drunk anything. What a headfuck. And even though it was so dark outside it still didn't click that it was 5 in the morning rather than the afternoon.

I guess I can blame Nytol and Valium for this coma, man those things are powerful.

Oh yeah, and I was smoking the green stuff. I'd not actually bought any in over a year until I quite randomly picked some up on Wednesday evening whilst on the hunt for Ketamine. Today is day 13 without alcohol and I am approaching a personal best so when I was DESPERATELY in need of a drink on Wednesday night I spent most of the evening trying to track down a bit of the horse tranquiliser as an alternative. Now hunting down class A narcotics as a substitute for the readily available alcohol I am so keen to avoid may seem entirely stupid BUT I really REALLY needed to get out of it on Wednesday and was dangerously close to hitting the bottle, which would have ruined my attempt to prove to myself that I can cut it out when needed, and would also have left me in a right state - within which I've no idea what stupidity may have occurred.

So the point was I was running around chasing after the wonky donkey, without any success as it turned out, when someone offered me some Mary Jane. Initially I declined but as I got no nearer to finding the fabled Ketamine I was so sure would consume my evening I caved in and bought a henry, thinking that ANY drug was better than NO drugs.

Got home, feeling sorry for myself, so blazed away and popped a few Nytol (I can't believe I only discovered these recently, they are AMAZING) and some Valeries so as to send me comfortably away to dreamy dream land and therefore keeping me away from the evils of alcohol.

So that was Wednesday night, now is Friday morning. That's quite a good few hours I've been out of it for. Irritatingly I have things to do today too so this early morning will have to count as the start of my day. No more Nytol, Valium or Marijuana to knock the clocks forward a few hours, just get up and deal with it time.

Incidentally the reason I was SO desperate to get obliterated on Wednesday night was, unsurprisingly, down to the lesbian. But thinking about that right now really fucking hurts still so it will have to be a post for another day. Or night.

I just got an e-mail inviting me to sing karaoke with Justin Lee Collins.

Er...

FUCK OFF

So I met up with the lesbian today, and it wasn't even my idea! She called me up and wanted to hook up and I was pleasantly surprised by how normal and not awkward it was. All week I've been stewing that things will never be the same again and yet the one person I have been most worried about ruining things with seems to be almost fine with me again.

It was nice anyway.

But the real weird part is her suggestion that we move in together!!! Not as man and lesbian wife obviously, but I mentioned how it looked unlikely that my current flatmate would want to renew our tenancy in the current flat, and I wouldn't blame him either to be honest, and she said that if I am seriously going to be looking for somewhere new in a few months then she'd like to share with me as she's only in somewhere temporary at the moment.

Now obviously I'm DELIGHTED at this suggestion. Not least because it puts to bed all my fears that I'd lost my relationship with this girl, and it also gives me hope that good friendships can be repaired. And as I type I've just got a call from another mate which is nice as I've been almost entirely incommunicado for the past week. So fingers crossed it's not all totally shit.

But anyway, the lesbian as a housemate... Could I do this? Of course most of me thinks yes yes yes I'd love it, we get on well, she's really cool, fun, smart, funny, we're into similar things, she's a lovely person - what more could I want? BUT the part of me that's entirely in love with her (and it's a pretty fucking MASSIVE part of me) has smashed the glass to sound the alarm. Would it ACTUALLY be wise to share with someone you're THAT keen on who will inevitably bring other people back to the house? Now where women are concerned I don't seem to have a problem with this, in some typically macho "girl on girl is fine by me" way and I had no issue with her girlfriend when they were dating or any of her girl ex's that I've met or heard about. HOWEVER, since splitting with her ex she's been a bit lost and did end up getting off with a guy at our end of college party. Now that really hurt. Furthermore she often talks about other guys she's slept with in the past and I feel myself bubbling up with pathetic jealous rage. I guess these incidents with men would suggest she's not entirely lesbian, and I know obviously that's the case but she still refers to herself as a lesbian and therefore so do I.

So I am left wondering would it really be a good idea in my fragile state of mind to leave myself open to the possibility of being entirely heartbroken by this girl? I've never shared a home with someone I really REALLY liked before so it's difficult to judge whether the good times outweigh the possible pain.

I will mull it over at length but given I've had no other offers and cannot stand the thought of having to hook up with randoms for a houseshare again it's mighty tempting right now.

She is fucking livid with me but she doesn't hate me.

Small steps, but this is probably the single most significant thing that could have happened in this hideous aftermath.

I can only hope that whenever I see her next it's not just a complete fucking mess

And so, five days after my night of foolish twattery, it's really starting to sink in how badly I've messed up this time. Barely anybody seems willing to talk to me. This whole network of friends that I've worked years to build up in this city has pretty much been destroyed in one fell swoop. The flatmate who seemed to be the best home sharing option I've had in many a year is almost certainly going to be gone, and what's more the guy was a good friend too. I don't even know what we are now.

The lesbian, not just girl of my dreams but a genuine contender for one of my closest friends in years, won't take my calls. I have a horrible feeling she has suffered most from this stupid fuck up on my part, my wasted alter-ego spewing love-ridden sympathy texts her way in some subconscious desperate attempt to determine how much she cares. I don't know this for sure, but I've lived with my screwed up head for long enough to have half an idea how it works when it's in self-destruct mode.

I mentioned before how desperate I am to find that one true close special friend with the bond that I imagine exists between on-screen best friends such as Chandler and Joey, Will and Grace or Moomin and Snorkmaiden. But I don't even know if this even exists so commonly in the adult world. Just because I was deprived of any close allies during those personality shaping school years, doesn't mean that if things had been different for me then it would make any difference now. And when I look at other people, in my paranoia tinted specs, I still wonder whether lots of guys I see are as close as this hypothetical bond I find myself so keen to unlock. I think with girls it's a lot more obvious, and you rarely ever find a girl of any age who can't tell you who her very best friend is. I know my mum has a best friend but I have no idea if my dad would consider anyone his best friend, or even if he's even thought about it.

So maybe, as is the case with much of my troubled life, I am searching for something I believe I should have that, in fact, not everyone else does have. Well, of course I understand that obviously not EVERYBODY does have a best friend and there are clearly plenty of people out there with no friends whatsoever, and I pity them (as well as slightly sympathise right now) but it is all relative just as it is when people tell you to cheer up as it's not like you've lost your legs or have to die of starvation because your country is plagued by famine. I have never said my life is WORSE than those with missing limbs or severe malnutrition BUT I don't encounter these people in my day to day life, I've never been to Ethiopia and as wheelchair friendly as the modern age is I don't actually come across those unfortunate enough to be wheelchair bound on a regular basis. I don't want to compare my misery and suffering to that of other people but inevitably I do, always considering that the average guy on the street doesn't have to battle with anywhere near as many issues as I do. And what do I know? I know nothing just by seeing some guy kiss his girlfriend on the street in public. He may be beset by ill-health, have suffered severe trauma, lost many loved ones to a murderer, he might even have AIDS. BUT what do I see? I see the guy kissing his girlfriend on the street. And that says to me this guy is in a relationship, and instantly I feel certain that his life is better than mine.

So we're back to the girlfriend thing again, and doesn't it always come back to this? Reading back over moans of the past from these very pages and yes, yes it does come up a lot BUT I wonder which I crave more right now. Is it the closeness of a lover or the unbreakable bond of a best friend forever? I guess it's difficult to judge with experience of neither.

But what if there are people who consider me a close friend and I choose not to accept this? How do I even know I'd let anyone that close to me? Or at least as close as this imaginary bond I lust after defines. If I can never consider myself good enough for a partner due to my deep set feelings of having no self worth, how then can I ever expect to make it as someone's closest friend? I wouldn't date me, and I don't even know if I'd be my friend. Mind you, we do have the same sense of humour and taste in music...

But I digress. How do I recover from this? What is the way out? Surely the best course of action after a failed suicide attempt isn't a more successful effort and yet that's exactly how I feel right now. I am sure I had no real intention of actually harming myself on that drunken Friday in question, I was just in a foul mood and heavily under the influence of a drug I should be avoiding in this state. And the only catalyst can have been that I was having a bit of a petty strop - not a serious contender for suicide excuse of the year. BUT now where am I? More alone than ever having alienated myself from those I felt closest to. I can try my very hardest to win many of these people back but I know deep down that it will never be the same again, that I can't recover from this like I could a drunken late night "I love you" phone call or a slurred insult I didn't really mean.

Maybe I got a bit of pity out of it, but if I ever had any respect, I don't anymore.

And it's all about the lesbian. It is her I miss most in all this, and her that I feel, right now, I would cope worst without. Never mind that I've only known her 6 months compared with the 8 years of some of these friends I've lost, I just want her to understand. And why is this? Just because I am in love with her? What possible good can come of this? Knowing that I can't have her doesn't come in to it, and regardless of my feelings for her I just really want to be close to her. And I do think I genuinely want her friendship, I'm not just looking for second best being as I can never have her as my own. But how do I know that even if I got her back, even if she forgave me and things went somewhere close to how they once were, how do I know that the first sniff of some rival for her affections wouldn't send me spiralling out of control? Well, I don't. But right now I don't care.

I miss her.

I miss being able to be me.

As much as I don't update this blog anywhere near as much as I'd like I feel the time is right for a get it all out post which may or may not be the catalyst for more regular future postings. One thing is for sure though, I need to keep writing and I need to get this shit off my chest, regardless of the fact nobody will read it.

So I am finally over the other side of a weekend I wish had never happened. Why do I wish it never happened? Because I was a complete fucking dick. And why was I a complete fucking dick? Partly because I was pissed out of my tree but also, largely due to the fact that I am a head mental and have serious abandonment issues.

So what have I done that's so bad? Well unfortunately I don't have a very good memory of my actions so have had to piece things together from selected accounts from the various people who are ever so angry with me. From what I can gather though, I was too pissed to get into some club on the Friday night and instead of accepting this gracefully I instead got upset that my friends all went in regardless. Now whilst I don't remember exactly what happened I can easily imagine myself getting worked up by such a situation as I have a history of kicking off when I feel left out, sometimes justifiably so I feel, but this one is hard to judge because considering I don't even remember it there is a fair chance that I was too much of a mess to get in anywhere and so it was perhaps unfair of me to expect all my mates to change their plans in order to try and accommodate me. However, considering I had put everyone up at my place (seriously pissing my flatmate off in the process) in the hours prior to going out I have to sympathise with my drunken irrational mind here, and my frustration would have been made yet worse by the fact that I was already in a right old grump about having been purposefully shunned by another group of so-called mates who were enjoying a party to which I was not invited that very night.

Oh this is all so lame I know but come on, indulge me, I need to get this out.

So, instead of trudging off home a little worse for wear I apparently went MENTAL, spitting out pathetic attention seeking text messages left, right and centre AND (shudder) changing my voicemail greeting to something that suggested I had killed myself. You see, this is where it gets seriously UNCOOL. Presumably I then turned my phone off and what became of me after that I've no idea. There seem to be suggestions that I climbed all over the pier (idiot) although how I got up there and what happened to me there I really couldn't say.

So it's all pretty text book "look at me" attention seeking behaviour for which I am not in any way proud of myself BUT, concerningly, it would seem I didn't simply turn up back home in the morning, tail between my legs OH NO.

I actually came to on Sunday afternoon, a good THIRTY hours after my last meaningful memory, and it all seemed eerily calm - I was in bed, at home, as if I had simply overslept rather dramatically having hit it a bit hard on the Friday night. But then I turned my phone on... And the fires of Hades were unleashed on my already achey brain. There were SO many messages I lost count and most of them were calling me a selfish cunt, or other variations on that theme. Of course there were the "we are all very worried about you" messages too, but mostly people were ANGRY with me. And then there were messages from the Police, as someone had thought to report me as a missing person, which I didn't think you could do unless you'd been missing for several days at least BUT apparently I am wrong.

Anyway, as if this wasn't bad enough, my flatmate obviously hears me roused from my countless hours of slumber and pops in to tell me I've been a selfish cunt. He says the police came round several times, along with ambulance crews (why??) and several of my mates from the night out. He then tells me that once I returned on the Saturday the filth came round again to do some sort of "well-being" follow-up call except I was completely zombified and couldn't be woken. I'm really scared by this because there really isn't even the tiniest shred of memory here and you'd think when the pigs get involved that'd sober you up a little but apparently I was oblivious to this, and I've no reason to doubt it did happen, given the rest of my antics up until this point. Turns out there were several empty packets of sleeping pills on the floor which might help explain this state. AND it turns out he's had to ring round other people to see if anyone knew where I was so this little episode is now common knowledge among all sorts of people I'd rather didn't know about it.

Flatmate also points out that he's stripped the lounge of anything belonging to him (big telly, stereo) as he "can be selfish too". Now I can't work out whether this is meant to be some sort of punishment for me or whether he just doesn't trust me around his stuff or even whether he simply doesn't want to have to spend time with me so will retreat to his room permanently safe in the knowledge that he has everything he needs in there. At any rate, he is clearly NOT impressed.

And nor am I. How I let myself get into this sort of state I really don't know. For years now I've been warned by doctors, therapists, friends and family that I NEED to control my drinking habits but for some reason I choose to ignore these warnings and end up losing DAYS of my life in which I could have lost my entire life. Now from what I have been told and can gather I'm fairly sure this was a pretty desperate attempt to get some sympathy and attention but at the same time I don't actually remember what I was doing so who knows how serious my battered mind was at the time? I could have killed myself almost subconsciously. If I'm not in control then who or what is? I know you can argue that the alcohol is in control but it's not ACTUALLY is it? I mean I still have the use of my limbs and whatever else, surely at the time I'm not just unconscious and my body is being controlled by some outside force, right?

I guess I just don't have a very right frame of mind.

Sadly this is not something I can brush under the carpet however. And as the latest in a number of alcohol related attacks of stupidity I'm acutely aware of the fact that I genuinely have to stop drinking, at least until maybe I am better again, if I even can be cured.

But what's really killer about it all is that I know I've lost good friends to this behaviour, and I don't even blame them. Selfish, attention seeking, pity parades such as this hardly endear me to other people and why bother getting close to someone who threatens to throw it all away and hurt you? There are many people I'd be devastated at losing and yet I can't imagine other people feeling that way about me. I never have done. I am constantly battling with my feelings of self-loathing, beefed up every time I get left out or miss out on some event I feel I should have been invited to. As if every time I'm not being cared for and adored this is some personal slight against me for being some kind of blemish in whatever social circle I'm paranoid about being excluded from.

Furthermore, I've managed to involve two distinctly seperate friendship groups which I have been desperately trying to keep apart as deep down I think I've known for a while I'd inevitably fuck it up with one lot and thus would end up relying on the other for support. It would seem however that I've royally fucked it up with BOTH groups. The only friends I've not involved and therefore alienated are all the far away, out of touch or settled down types that sadly won't make things better.

I feel like I'm going to have to start from scratch all over again, which is daunting to say the least, and may sound overly dramatic BUT I have really messed up with some people, whilst other relationships were hanging by a thread anyway. This leaves me really alone again. I always seem to be desperate for that one true best mate type friend, and often I go looking for that person in somebody far too soon, or even when it isn't totally appropriate. True deep friendships are forged over years and years of hard work, but I don't have TIME for this. I need somebody to listen to my troubles, tell me things will be alright and share secrets with me in a girly fashion that boys wouldn't usually admit to but all secretly love, and I need this somebody NOW. These days my therapist knows more about me than anyone else in my life and I guess that's not that unusual in that opening up to strangers can seem a lot less risky than trusting someone close but I still feel I'm missing that best mate material that I've been crying out for since the succession of losses I suffered in primary and middle school (losses to other countries mainly, not THAT dramatic).

I've always wanted to be adored. Apparently sloppy, drunken suicide attempts aren't the way to go about it.

I am feeling: ASHAMED

:(