Friday, August 26, 2005

Something has got to give

There's nothing worse than feeling like a third wheel.

I can't keep living in the spare room of Stacey's apartment.

Her boyfriend just moved in on Tuesday night. I saw it coming, but it was still a surprise to see him loading boxes into the foyer. I stood there awkwardly watching him.

Wednesday night we all drank together in the livingroom after work, We played drinking games and took whiskey shots until we were almost sliding off the sofa. They started making out in the kitchen and I felt so out of place in her private home.

Her boyfriend asked me this morning "So how long do you think you'll be living here, Iris?"

Translation: "I'm here get the fuck out"

"I don't know..I'm just trying to raise enough money to put the down payment on my own apartment. It should only be a few more weeks", then I pretended to laugh. "Or whenever Stacey kicks my ass out on the curb"

He nodded, but he didn't laugh. I couldn't help but wonder if Stacey complained to him, if she felt obligated to take me in and now regrets that decision. It's been a month now. Maybe she doesn't know how to tell me to leave.

I can't tell you how shitty this feels inside.

Tonight after my afternoon shift at Starbucks, I went to have dinner with my family.

Luke was the one that picked me up. He told me that my mother really wanted to see me and how much she "loves" me.

I hated sitting at the dinner table next to Luke. My Mother and sister were across from us, watching us carefully. They were observing how we interacted. I could read their thoughts so clearly..they didn't even have to speak. They wanted us to get engaged again, get married and live "happily ever after"

They don't care that I'm struggling with my feelings for Michael, or that I think about him all the time. They don't care what I want, how hard my life much I hate my existance sometimes. They just want to marry me off to someone wealthy to get me off their hands.

My Mother and I also had an argument..I don't feel like getting into it. I'm beginning to hate who she is and everything she represents.

I'm going to do something.

Something I'm really afraid of, but a few shots of vodka before hand will help me out.

I'm going to call Michael. I know it's 1:30 in the morning. I know it's stupid. I don't care if it makes me look desperate, needy, pathetic or clingy. I need to hear his voice. I need to tell him how I feel. I'm sick of this shit. I can't do this anymore. I have to be real, I have to be myself.

posted by Iris at 4:35 AM