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  • Writer's picturenyomistar27

Keeping my head above water

I was already battling my depression and then I met an older, good looking Millennial on Monday night and we had a lot of fun together. I was feeling even better since I didn’t even have my full makeup on, and I was still able to pick him up (for fun, not work).

But then like most Millennial boys, he got scared. He canceled our plans to meet again last night. He tried to use the banal excuse, “It’s not you, it’s me.” But this reinforced my negative thoughts and I told myself he doesn’t think I’m worth it to get to know.

I decided to take myself out for sushi to cheer myself up. Because my tours had been lackluster, I agreed to meet a new client who had rescheduled with me and then failed to show up the night previously.

If I hadn’t done so poorly in both Vancouver and San Francisco, I never would have agreed to meet him. But he offered to compensate me extra for not showing up the night before.

I met him for a couple of drinks and when I got back to the hotel, he set an envelope down on the coffee table for me. I stupidly did not check it. Why I’m still so trusting of people despite everything I’ve been through is a sign I’m still a hopeful human being. 🙄 Fuck me.

I didn’t check the envelope until after he left. And it was full of fake money.

Of course, I’m pissed at this guy, and I have since discovered he’s done this to many other women. He needs to be caught and cut, in my opinion.

But I’m mostly pissed at myself for trusting and forgiving someone.

I reached a breaking point last night and today, and my eyes are still puffy from bawling my eyes out and thinking, “Just kill yourself.”

That switch is easy to turn on when you’ve switched it so many times before. In combination of all the other things I mentioned in my previous post, with “friends” not communicating with me, not having a single non-human with me to feel unconditional love, Millennials being intimidated by me and choosing the easier choice and/or not thinking I’m worthy to get to know, the constant reading of the wrong “your” and “you’re,” and the poorly composed emails I have to filter through.

I am emotionally drained. But as I compose this, with DeSoto on my lap, the other dogs close by me, and weed I brought back, I’m already feeling better. Each life I have acquired are reasons for me not to off myself.

People I cannot trust, especially not with whatever fragile parts I have left of my heart, but I trust my menagerie and I choose to remain for them.

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