Nothing like chopping off two feet of hair to christen a new lease on life

New life, new hair. I will write. I will work. I will fight. I will make my life awesome. I will be epic! And I might make a trophy out of my chopped ponytail.

I know, it must seem rash, dramatic and unnecessary. But here is a little bit of what I have mentally chopped away with my hair:

Me getting wasted and then taken advantage of by a man 16 years my elder. Losing my virginity to him. Worse losing a lot of my dignity to him by letting him yank me around by the emotions.

Briefly dating a violent, angry guy that sort of looked like goku at super saiyan 3, but with shorter hair. And all the cruel things he said when I told him I didn't want to be with him, like calling me an insta-slut, just add vodka.

Three years down the drain with an abusive liar that I allowed to use me, and worse left me damaged and distrusting. Worst of all I just dropped everything that mattered for him. I stopped going to school. I stopped writing (some of the time). I painted less.

High school. Very few good memories there.

All the friends that vanished after high school.

The church family that I lost, when we all scattered to the four winds for college.

My old midtown condo in the ghetto. Hopefully I never have to hear somebody get shot ever again.

Finding out that my ex-sister-in-law was a whore and had been fucking another man behind my brother's back for a decade. And finding out that neither of my nephews were really ours.

The three drunkest nights of my life.

And I suppose physically I chopped off all the damaged, unhealthy hair that grew out of my head while I was a vegan.... Just not enough fat and protein in my diet.

ONWARD AND UPWARDS TO GLORY!

I LIVE!!

And my period makes me horny as hell. More theories on this and alternatively how to make microwave mug brownies later. (And yes, I've just finally obtained a computer to write from, so I should be more attentive from here on out)

Well that seems to be over. What next?

I believe my ex has found a new fuck buddy.

OHTHANKGOD!

His "lesbian" anime buddy.

Called it.

Moving on. Did not feel well today. Managed to convince a couple different coworkers to cover different parts of my shift. I didn't think Abbey was going to cover for me, so I was going to work  9 to midnight, but then she showed up a couple minutes after I did. YAY!

So I'm going to bake her and "Buttery" (seriously that's his last name. AWESOME.) cookies to thank them. Also I would really, REALLY like to get my life together.

And apparently one common aspect of really successful people is that they tend to keep some kind of journal. Now that I think about it, I think I tend to do better if I keep a consistent blog. So I'm gonna go for it. CHALLENGE ACCEPTED! Again!

So. AHEM. Dear... Journal? I need to lose weight, get packed for my move, work out more, spend more time with my puppy to make sure she's balanced and happy, spend more time with my friends, my artwork and my writing to make sure I'M balanced and happy. Do I want a boyfriend? Not sure. I think I'm going to see how weight loss and toning goes first.

 I want to finish my associate and get started on a four year degree. I'd like to have a masters that will facilitate work as an art therapist. I'd like to finish my novel and start another. In the mean time I will be sending my first out to see if I can't nab an agent. I would like a better job. Dream before college completion job: Clerical work in the Library system.

Before that, I think an extra part time job would be good. I don't think I'm cut out to be a receptionist. Every time I read the description of a job I think to myself "That sounds horribly boring!"

Also, I think I would like to set my home up a little more minimalist, so that I'm less easily distracted. I'm going to have less space in my new condo. That's definitely ok, I'm tired of taking charity from my family. This is still charity, yes, but I can pay for this charity.

Man, my ex's computer SUCKS. I think I remember why I so enjoyed the mac book. Maybe I CAN get it repaired. Updated. All that jazz. I can't believe they still cost a thousand dollars... GEEZ.

Oh, that reminds me. I'd like a tablet with a keyboard or else a net book. I also want some tattoos and a keyboard with weighted keys. A full keyboard. I'd also really like a mig welder and a few other sweet tools to start doing my own steampunk sculptures.

I think that pretty much covers it. I want to change my life. Here we go.

What am I doing with my life?

I just have to turn into a total asshole for a few weeks to get my ex to leave me alone.

FOR GOD'S SAKE I KICKED HIM OUT OF MY HOUSE! HOW MUCH CLEARER DOES IT GET?

Maybe If I just learned to say, "sorry I'm busy" or "sorry I'm really tired tonight" I'd be okay. Anyway About a week and a half ago we had a week of wild sex. The unprotected, pull out kind. Because he hates condoms and I'm an idiot. Now my period is a week late. I took a pregnancy test a few days after it should have started and it was negative. But apparently it could be a false negative? According to the internet?

It's ridiculous the amount of websites I found saying, "IT'S OKAY! YOU MIGHT STILL BE PREGGERS!" fuck "i-wanna-be-a-mommy-so-bad-i-wet-myself" sites. I need a OH GOD I CAN'T CARE FOR A CHILD RIGHT NOW! I CAN'T GET A GOOD JOB FOR SHIT! type site.

Because I can't. I just had an argument with my mother something along the lines of "You're 24 years old, what are you doing with your life??"

Failing.

Obviously.

I always thought I'd at least know what I was doing with myself by now. Know what to do, where to go, have a decent job to get me through it.

I did it

I never thought getting my ex out of my life would be so upsetting. But I finally just came out and said it. My friends had been pushing me to finally go through with it. Specifically C was worried that I would end up severely damaged, emotionally. Honestly I think I already need therapy.

Anyway she sent me a message about it, and I must have made an upset face. He was coming out of the shower and asked what was wrong. And I just went for it.

I said, "This is bad for me."

At first he didn't understand. But I repeated it and it just clicked. THIS. Is bad for me. He had to have known what he's been doing to me, right? This couldn't have just come out of nowhere.

He did admit to using me. And he gave me his keys. He gave me his keys. It's really over. I'm happy and miserable at the same time. Now I can finally start to get better. I can date without shame. Thank God. Thank you. I should probably hate God for all he's let me go through. All this and my grandfather died last week. Out of nowhere. While I was having a crisis of faith. Mom called and said he'd had a heart attack and I dropped my crisis and prayed. And he died anyway. How can something so twisted avert a crisis of faith? I think I'm right about this therapy thing.

I can't believe that deep down I was still hoping he cared. What a nightmare. He never did. I know that. He never even loved me. And every time I got into his stuff, like his computer and his phone, there was another dirty conversation or girl or photos or something.

He used me. All this time, he was just using me because I made it easy.

Yeah, I definitely need therapy.

Of note:

I am so miserable right now. I wonder if he knows that he's the reason why? I certainly hope he doesn't think that he needs to be around to cheer me up. All I want is to burst out of my silence and tell him that I don't want him around any more.

Easier said than done when we're both lounging around in our underpants and he's been trying to cheer me up all night.

I think the next time he hangs out at his place for a couple days (usually during the weekend when he has days off) I'll strike. And by strike, I mean that when he calls to hang out on the last night of his weekend because he's going to need a ride to work the next day, I'm going to tell him I can't. Then he'll have to fend for himself.

I hate sitting here in my house, knowing he's around, seeing him sit there and vegetate on his phone, playing games or texting girls or whatever he's really doing. He doesn't realize I'd be actually doing something with my life if it wasn't for him. That I'd have probably picked up a book or worked on my novel... Although I have been working on Mario 64, that counts as doing something with my life, in my book.

This depression is getting deeper. And the cure is to finally, at long last be alone. I've never wanted to be single so badly. I never knew I could want it so bad. To be free...

Parasite

I hate living this way. In his shadow. I think he's gone, life transforms into something beautiful. I feel free and happy. I work on my novel. And then bam. He runs out of money and runs back to me.

I am not your neighbors wi-fi.

I am not your taxi cab.

I am not your meal ticket.

I am not your tax help.

So stop acting like it. I hate this. I'm not alone in the house. but I am. Here he is, using me like a bed and breakfast with free public transit. And here I am. Not benefiting at all from his presence.  I just feel pathetic. I am lonely. I was happier when he wasn't around. For about a week, at best. I wrote twenty-five pages in my novel. It only took a couple days to realize that I LOVE living without him.

But then he ran out of money. And back he came. Only to get rides to work and eat my food. Occasionally he wants sex. He is a parasite. He survives off of my inability to tell him no.

I've found hell. How do I get out? I'm afraid to confront him. As always. This is my nightmare. You know, I had a couple nightmares while he was gone. One awful one about my father dying. And one where I thought I was at work. I looked up and there was my ex, walking in. The shock, surprise, and disappointment at seeing him actually woke me up. With a jolt. And there I was alone in my bed again.

I had that same feeling when I went to the renaissance fair this last weekend. All of my friends ditched on me at the last minute. So I went by myself. Lo and behold, not fifteen minutes into arriving, I saw him. Well, I saw his hair. He has a streak of bright red dyed into it. I know, I did it. I saw that, noticed that the tall guy next to him was his best friend, and fled in tears, hoping he hadn't seen me.

I ran. I felt like such a coward, pushing through the crowd, weeping like a teenage girl. I was upset because I didn't want to be confronted with him and all his friends, only for him to ask where my friends were. He could have warned me. He knew I would be there that day.

I called my mother and calmed down. He called me later and we met up, and it was fine. I suppose it worked out. If he'd run into me with my writing group in tow, they would have torn him a new one. They hate him. They know every single thing he's ever done to me. And they hate him. So does my gym buddy Kim. And all of my coworkers too.

They know that he hit me, that he dumped me twice for other women and made me feel like shit whenever he did me wrong. They know that I am afraid to confront him because I am afraid of him. They know how he has used me. I wish I could surround myself with these people at all times, so they would create a barrier between him and me. Then I might finally be free.

I wish I could hate him.

God? We don't talk as much as we used to. But I want him gone. Even though there's a part of me that could keep him around forever. Please. Kill that part of me. Give me the strength to be a jerk to him. Give me the emotional numbness I need to get rid of him. Please.

From this point on, I am saving up for a vacation. Two weeks in Philadelphia might clear my mind and ween my ex. I hope.