KamyRawr

Confession #72: I fell for a straight girl.

Fuck.

She’s the best roommate someone could have ever asked for.

I’m one lucky bitch.

It’s when your alternatives become unhealthy and you can’t resist because they are the only things in your life that you can rely on, to be there when no one else is.

I just pulled an all-nighter…

Why? For absolutly no relevant reason what so ever.

Caffeine and dope kept me up a bit late as is, then one of my girls came home drunk and needed to rant out to someone about her day, so I sat and listened, made her food since she was hungry, brought her water refills and put her to bed.

Then I wandered around the house mindlessly, made myself breakfast and a cup of coffee, scanned through tumblr and said hello to the arriving kids who are getting ready to go to school. 

Now I am sitting around all the moms as they clean up after their kids.

It’s 10:00 AM, should I head to bed?

We got into our first fight last night.

Never have I imagined that one day, he would use the F word on me. It was like a slap in the face.

And just because I’ve chosen to speak up for once, doesn’t give him the right to acuse me of being drunk or high - I have a voice and I have the right to use it when I’m sober too!

But I don’t care - my point came across. And now it’s up to him: if he wants me bad enough, he’ll fix this. If not, I’m ready to move on.

My roomate prays several times a day.

She puts on her head cover pieces, lays down her traditional mat, faces the window, kneels and begins her prayers through wispers.

I have absolutly no problem with it, but I always feel awkward when she does it. Mainly because I don’t know what I should be doing, or if I should even be in the room that very moment.

I feel sort of obligated to keep quiet though and try to stay as far out of her way as possible to allow her to take all the space she needs: physicly and spiritually.

But still, it’s strange, I almost feel like I should be praying with her - but that’s not even a necacety in the relligion I was given.

Is it strange to feel this way about this situation?

It’s like rehab for people who’ve drawn their second last straw..

They sent me here to heal.

They told me it’s a space I can let things go, and know that there is someone to catch me when I fall again.

They told me I’m strong, and that all of this will one day make me a better social worker.

They told me I’m worth it, and have the right to fight for what I need and want.

They told me it’s not failure, but rather adjustment.

It’s all such a challange - but they were right, I need to focus on ME. And getting MYSELF to a better place.

I gave in tonight.

I don’t know who’s promise I broke first… His, or mine.

I’m sorry. I tried. But he wasn’t there like he promised to be. I couldn’t hold on, on my own, any longer.

Baby, I tried.

They finally settled me in a somewhat permanent place.

But then again, come Monday, I don’t know where I’ll be.

Transition after transition after transition….

When will ‘adjustment’ kick in?

I’m sick of all this running.

I’m especially tired too.

Motherfucker.

Breath.

Well hello there anxiety…

I didn’t miss you at all, just so you know.