Valentine’s Day was everything I hoped it to be! A lovely dinner, tears, wine and cats. What more can a basic bitch like me want?
I guess maybe if my boyfriend didn’t leave at 8:00 because depression grabbed me by the neck and choked me until I was blue and finding myself eating an entire pint of Ben and Jerrys (I was planning on doing that anyway but not under those conditions and I was also pretty drunk. I need to reevaluate my life. Maybe. I’ll ask Rob. Not that he’s my therapist or anything he’s actually my boyfriend but sometimes that’s the same thing, right? Ok not really, so I found out) I wouldn’t be at the gym trying to “reinvent” myself by getting in a good workout and being a strong independent woman. I don’t think stair masters are good places to write long blog posts either though, just by the way. I just spent the past few minutes disgusted at someone’s B.O. only to realize it’s me. But I’m strong and independent so I figured that out myself and I’m just going to roll with it and hope no one says anything. I think that should be a gym rule, especially at planet fitness because I have definitely smelled some real ratchet smells here (is that weed I smell?).
Conversations between Rob and me:
Me: so you like my blog? Right?
Rob: I mean it doesn’t make much sense but I guess it’s just your stream of consciousness
Me: NO ROB ITS ABOUT MENTAL ILLNESS AND IM MENTALLY ILL AND THATS JUST HOW MY BRAIN WORKS
Me: it’s more like the DC metro. Makes no sense.
Rob: uh yeah it does. The New York subway doesn’t make sense.
Me: are you kidding? The orange line takes you from “I should have my knife with me” to “oh god where’s my Chanel and Louis Vouttin?”
Rob: there’s a map in every station!
Me: well not in my brain there isn’t! There’s like some orange line that takes you to now but later I might hop on the brown line and end up.. Wait where does the brown line even go? Anacostia?
Me: ANYWAY. My point is that my mind doesn’t make sense so neither should my blog. I figure if you don’t like me you won’t like my blog.
Rob: get back on the orange line and go home.
He gets me. He really gets me.
And I haven’t fallen off his stair master yet but I can feel my dinner from last night. Anyone who takes medication knows what I’m talking about. That is the most real struggle ever. I think I’ll write a post about that once I stop losing readers.