mass disorganization

jumping, jumping

Maybe I have a problem. I like to joke that no one really leaves Berkeley without a substance problem.

This is the first time I have been injured after getting horrifically drunk. (Somehow I managed to avoid giving homage to the porcelain god.)

One, there is a 2.5 cm diameter ugly purple bruise on my right bicep. Two, I think I may have broken my left thumb. There is a huge bruise over the thenar muscles and there is also brusing on the dorsal side, and I can't hyperextend at the MCP without terrible, incapacitating pain.

It's probably just badly sprained (although I'm of course being a hypochondriac and wonder if I didn't lacerate the radial artery somehow—at least it's not a snuffbox injury)

I should just get a splint.

Instead, I'm probably just going to wait a year or two when it doesn't heal and all my hand muscles have atrophied.

At least I can still type.

What I'm not so sure is if I can still play guitar.

Anyway, the thing that is a little scary is that I don't remember how I sustained these injuries. Sure, there was this unexplicable urge to go running up the hill, and most likely I fell and slammed my hand on the concrete, but the etiology of the bruise over my bicep escapes me.

self-esteem in the crapper

running away at first sight

The real reason I grew confused and insane is that I realized that I still like someone else a lot, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. (And this is probably unwise and stupid to post here, but I really don't care anymore. I'm like a tagger with a spraypaint can, leaving "Kilroy was here" all over the place, like a dog pissing on trees. If you can figure out who I am, and who I'm talking about, well, good for you, it doesn't change a goddamn thing.)

Amidst the waves and the cake and the gin, I once again realized how royally screwed I was, and this sent my mind reeling.

Is there any hope? If there isn't, what the hell do I do now?

This is when depression sets in. Big-time.

It didn't help at all that one of my cousins, a guy I grew up with, just got married to his on-again, off-again girlfriend for the last eight years, and they are so disgustingly happy that I wanted to commit suicide that very night, and pretty much tried to drink myself to death.

The thing that really wreaked havoc on my soul is that I've known this woman who is everything I could ever want and far more than I deserve for about that long, and really, I've had a crush on her before that (non-withstanding my disastrous obsession with you-know-who who is now married and has two kids)

And beside the fact that I didn't have a snowball's chance in Satan's asshole in the first place, I couldn't've done more to be as far away as possible from her.

Good one, dude. That's how you let people know you like them. Run away as far as possible.

And here I am, doing it all over again.

This has got to stop, one way or another.

Seriously.

Help.