i’m not drunk enuff to talk to you

May 24, 2013

in blowg

I’m not drunk enough to talk to you. Wait, hold on, yes I am. So I punch “accept call.”

The sound is muffled. Maybe you’ve been crying. In fact, I know you have been. But why? Hello?

Earlier, I asked Trevvor why everyone seems to be in relationships with people that are absolutely terrible for them. With the exception of a few friends, everyone seemingly chooses to be in relationships with cheaters, abusers, fighters, naggers, haters, liars and sluts. No one in my generation has managed to be with someone who respects them or understands them or appreciates them or loves them.

Oh ho, I’m no better. In fact, I might possibly be the worst. I swing in and out of strained relationships, riding those frequent highs with equally frequent lows, bitter, bitter lows that coil inside our guts and rip us apart.

I hate her today, I tell Trevvor. But tomorrow I will probably love her again.

Trevvor, who is also in a relationship with a manic pixie dream girl with a heartless penchant for destructive behavior, nods and says, I don’t hate my girl today.

But I might tomorrow, he adds.

That’s the delicate balance of this distorted scale, I say. When I love myself, I hate her. When I love her, I hate myself.

So now I’m listening to her mumble into the phone. She says, hey, it’s me. I’m just calling to hear your voice.

No. No, you aren’t.

I’m drunk and mumbling back and I say I love her a hundred times and it hurts and I say why are you calling? even tho she already answered that. I want to ask her how she is, but I don’t. I want to tell her about my day, but I don’t. I say, you can’t do this to me. Two days ago you told me you were moving on. Stop changing your damn mind. And I hung up.

In the morning, I loved her again. I really truly did. And I hated myself for it.

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