Note: The only changes to this entry are minor corrections to grammar, punctuation, formatting, and spelling. I’ve also removed any last names which appeared, except in the case of teachers.
I am melancholy. Also, drunk. Is this the first drunken entry? I can’t remember a previous one, but my drinking over the past year has been a little worrisome, so I may have written in here and forgotten about it.
- Broke up with Monica in March. Her idea, but probably for the best. We wanted different things.
- Fell for Andrea, who is now on the verge of dating Matt. We’re just good friends now.
- Fell for Libby, a girl in my apartment complex. She’s got unresolved issues with her ex-boyfriend Michael. Having a hard time getting over her.
- Maile is one of my roommates
I feel fairly alone. It isn’t a pleasant feeling. I have no real close male friends in town, and although I have some close female friends, seeing them when drunk merely makes me infatuated with them if they offer me sympathy.
I guess I’m just tired of not being in a relationship. I’m not regretting the decision to divorce — Scarlett and I don’t work, just as Monica and I do not. But surely there is someone out there… Libby seems great, but that isn’t working out. So I’m alone. And drunk. The signs of alcoholism are disturbing. I drink to get drunk and don’t even enjoy it. But I look forward to it. I’m drunk and the only benefit is that it makes me tired and lets me sleep instead of dwelling on all this shit. But I know it’s bad. If I had a reason not to drink, I don’t think I’d have any trouble not drinking. But I don’t seem to be too lucky when it comes to love. Three serious relationships — Monica, Alex, and Scarlett. Look how those turned out. Not that it matters. Fuck. Listen to me whine like a child. Lovely, isn’t it? Will it always be like this? I doubt it. I know it will all turn out okay, but it hurts and I don’t know how to deal with it in the meantime. I may just cry or sit for a while. Writing isn’t helping.
P.S. Drunken email — perhaps that will help. I know it won’t– don’t tell.