Early Morning Contemplation

Recovering from the most I've ever drank in my life last night, or at least the worst it ever hit me. Vodka goes down quicker. Cheap liquor settles. And then makes a second appearence, all over your best friend's bathroom floor although you aimed to throw it up in the bowl. The damn thing kept moving...

But screw that. I need to assess my life. I'm five pounds heavier. I'm with a man I don't really like. But you know, I don't know what it is about Chris. Say what you will about him, yes, I've said it over and over, he is skeevy and has dubious taste in his friends, who, although I don't even respect as human beings, I do find myself fantasizing about and have even told poor Chrissy about this... hmm... I just can't seem to leave. Is it the fear of being alone or simple attraction? I'm not attracted, I knwo that, none of the fireworks ignited by his loser friend for example go off for Chrissy. It's more the underlying feeling of security maybe. Chrissy understands me, well my negative attributes, at least, and being me I dwell on these myself and thus am attracted to him. Right? Or is it the feeling of being taken care of... the constant secuirty and safeguard that you know at the end of the night, he'll be around to call. Or have I created that image myself and therefor believe my own fairytales? He's certainly not dependable. Nor compassionate; towards me anyway. I think I scare him, really, which indeed makes him the perfect boyfriend. But at the end of all this misgiving, you wonder, what everyone always asks in the end, What is it you want, Casey?

What indeed.

I don't know. When I find it, I'll know it. Right?

Talking to Nicole last night and have come to the conclusion that I do miss Kenny very much. But that phase of my life is over, I've been cursed from day one, starting relationships and even the whole discovery of it all so badly broken, no wonder I'm messed up. I wish I could talk to him, you know... One conversation, maybe, just a few questions... You know, after someone dies, they keep changing, stories told and images laid all over until it wasn't even like what the person was like in real life at all. I might not remember this right, he's been dead 7 years this last past week. I might not remember him right, he scared me sometimes, I was a little girl, after all. I would love to know, what he thought of me, again... I know, I've got the letters, I want to hear it again again, and again. I want to know everything is going to be ok, I need that.

But my Irish grandmother always said, if wishes were horses beggars would ride. Which doesn't make any sense even now, but it's one of those explainations that serves to close the deal. Like better to have loved and lost than never loved at all. I don't think anyone really believes that.

How is it to be drunk the morning after, or at least tasting the drink you had last night at the back of the throat? I miss that feeling, of being swallowed in attraction; infatuated beyond reason, closest thing to insanity. It's been so long, you know.

Now I'm being sappy.

Loving my body as of late, its gotten alot of attention lately. My small waist, my wide hips, my butt... I need to tone up, though I'm all gross and loose. Going running with Bonnie later.