• a conversation I'm not entirely sure I imagined:
  
  Shocked Girl Friend: "You are IN LOVE WITH HIM!"
  
  me: "I know, shut up. I'll get over him and we'll be friends. It's the only thing that can happen."
  
  I am always deliriously, ridiculously, embarrassingly happy to see you, and I imagine and fear that it is painfully obvious to everyone. Then I immediately start drinking as much as I can because I can't handle being near you although I desperately want exactly that. I don't even know what happened after you showed up except that I knew I would need another pitcher of beer. I remember we started talking and I do remember a bit of what we talked about: movies, cigarettes, money for recording. I remember telling him where I was and know that I ordered a drink for him but don't actually recall doing so. Then nothing else but a very dim recollection of him arriving, a flash of the drive home, a piece of an argument. I don't know what I said to anybody. I'm sure it was all idiotic and shameful. I'm certain I acted like an ass.
  
  I keep fucking this up every time I try to fix it. I feel like the smart thing to do would be to stay away from you until I get over you so we can be friends, but I don't think I can stand to be away from you for that long, and selfishly, I also don't want to get over you. I'm a fucking addict. I am terribly ashamed that I continue to refuse to cultivate the willpower to act responsibly. I'd like to make excuses about my mental health or blame the medications I've been taking, but really, I'm just selfish. I deserve your scorn, derision, hatred. Yes, I am a liar and a coward. Listen to how pathetic I sound! I'm fucking nuts.
  
  I'm terrified that you will end up hating me. I used to know how to behave. I know this is a fucked-up situation of my own creation, and it's entirely my fault. I am a grown woman acting like a child. I should be able to control myself but either can't or won't, not sure which. My behavior is hurting you (I think, unless I am experiencing delusions of reference again, which is entirely possible). You didn't ask for this. I am a selfish, horrible, narcissistic person. For all these things I want to die. I probably should die. But I won't.
  
  I know none of this is your problem or responsibility. It is also not a thinly veiled request for help. I just want you to know why I act the way I do. Sometimes I think it would be nice if you could see this so you could understand, but I'm afraid understanding me would make you hate me. My constant neurotic need for reassurance and validation is a drain on everybody. Maybe a period of sobriety would fix this. Maybe I will try that this weekend. (emotionally immature madwoman, damaged)

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