So, I thought last weekend was a mess....boy was I wrong.
It all started on Saturday afternoon. I had agreed to make dinner for a couple of my guy friends, even though I wasn't feeling well and I didn't really want to see either of them. So I went to the store to pick up some things that I needed, and as I'm walking down the frozen foods aisle, I grab a New York cheesecake. A fucking cheesecake. When I got home, I threw down the rest of the food I had bought, grabbed a fork, and before I knew it, half of the cheesecake was gone. I knew with something that high in calories, senna wasn't going to be effective enough to have me not absorb all of those calories, so I purged, drank some water, and purged again until all that was coming up was bile. This all went down before it was 3:00 pm, I still had the rest of the day to get through.
My friends got to my apartment at about 5:00, wine in hand, ready to be fed and have a good time. I had about three glasses of wine while they ate their food; not enough to be drunk, but definitely enough to be tipsy. My friends, on the other hand, drank about a bottle and a half each. Before I knew it, they were all over me, putting their arms around me, nuzzling my face, rubbing their hands on my thighs. I freaked the fuck out. They're supposed to be my friends! Not try to drunkenly hook up with me. I kept trying to push them off, make it clear that I didn't want to do anything, that I have NEVER seen them in that way, but they weren't getting it. So I left. I went to my room, locked the door, and tried to call P. I needed him. I needed to talk to him, he was one of the only people who knew about the sexual assault in my past. I called, left one relatively calm message. I called again, a little bit more panicked as the walls around me started to move towards me and I could still hear my "friends" in my living room, now trying to move on to my sister. By the third voicemail I left him, I was sobbing, I needed OUT. I told him I couldn't take it anymore. I texted him a final farewell, and stood up, marched out the apartment and down the street. My intention was to go jump in front of one of the trains that ran by my house. In my distraught state, I didn't remember that these trains were no longer running. Once that hit me, I tried throwing myself in front of cars. You guys, I was so desperate for everything to be over. I should have been hit, I don't know how I survived the night unscathed. My sister found me crumpled up on the sidewalk about 10 blocks away from our apartment, sobbing. She helped me get home, told my friends to get the fuck out, and then had to forcibly keep me from leaving my bed. I must have passed out, because the next thing I remember is waking up at 4:30 am, mind completely clear and empty. My dad was home, and both he and my sister were asleep. I proceeded to clean the apartment, top to bottom, just to get my mind off of things.
That was just my Saturday. Now, my Sunday was less eventful, but much much worse.
After talking to my dad and my sister, who were debating whether or not I needed to be put on house arrest until I was feeling more balanced, I went and got my computer to check my email. What awaited me on my email sent me into an emotional black hole. On Saturday one of my closest friends died in a freak accident that happened while he was abroad. I loved this kid so much, he was one of the smartest people I had ever met. He was truly an incredible human being, it's not fair. I don't want him to be gone. He can't be gone. We were planning on Skyping with each other tonight, I had been looking forward to it for the past week. But I won't get to talk to him ever again. Never again.
That was my weekend.
