Sometimes It Ain't Beautiful and it Hurts...Bad

My god, I think I am dying. My throat hurts, my back hurts, and I think I lost my lung somewhere in Connecticut. Jesus Christ maybe it is the Swine Flu, a girl has never felt so bad in her whole entire life. Enough of the dramatics. I have taken a very nice pill, which will put me to sleep in about an hour. So here goes.

The aunt situation sucks majorly! When I went home for six weeks I knew it would be a hard to convince my aunt to stay with her again. You'd have to be in the family to understand the screwed up aspects of it. Outside of my brother, mom, and dad my distant family is not really that close. We call each other when someone dies and send out Christmas cards if we don't forget. I have come to accept this. I have come to accept that I will have a family of friends way before I have a family, of well, family. But this move out date that my aunt has imposed on me feels like a betrayal or worse, a personal attack.

When I moved here, I think she thought she was going to get a buddy. That she would have a niece who would hang out with her all the time, and listen to her bullshit like I had nothing else to do. Quickly I started to see the cracks in the way my aunt has carried herself all these years. I always thought she was the cool one, the street savvy, pretty popular aunt who lets who eat pizza for dinner every night. But what I didn't know was that she is an irresponsible excuse of a person who keeps no food in her house, does not pay any of her bills on time, and who has sex with a married man every Monday afternoon, despite the fact that i am in the living room trying to drown out of the noise of smacking (i may need to take Sex Ed over again, because I still do not understand why I heard that sound).

The truth (or particles of it) is that with me here she can no longer hide under the pretense of her life. She can't tell people she has it all together when she literally doesn't. I hate that she called my mom, instead of just coming to me and asking me how the job hunt/ apartment hunt was going. It would have been a passive aggressive way of doing it, but it would have been a lot better than calling my mom and telling her that she is giving me until the end of December. Yes, I planned on leaving in December anyway. Yes, this puts more fire under my ass to get myself (and money) together in order to stay in New York. But I now know that I don't have the support from a family member, my mothers sister, and I can't help but feel betrayed.

Soon after my mom told me about what my aunt said I saw a listing online for a furnished room, literally a block away. It's in a nice neighborhood and I wouldn't have to worry about not having a place to stay come December. I was suppose to check out the digs tonight but fate intercepted and the bus from Stamford to Westchester broke down. I called the Realtor and told him that I would have to reschedule, so now I am seeing the place on Saturday at 1:30. I have to be at work at noon, so hopefully my manager will let me take a weird break or I can stay a little longer to make up for my weird schedule. Some how I think telling them that my aunt is kicking me out of her apartment and I need to find a place to live or I can no longer work at the bookstore will sway them.

This week has been hard, and me being sick (very sick) is not helping. Last week I took a day off from the internship, and I did feel better. But the weather went from 70 degrees to 40 overnight, and the healthy feeling has been replaced with a fever, sniffles, congestion, and my body aches. I didn't know a body could ache that bad until I was sitting on the bus today and I felt like passing out. I may have even done the head tilt forward as the bus threw my body about. I bought medicine last week, but I have no idea where it is today.

Having cancelled on the Realtor (Dave) I was able to drag myself to target and stock up on drugs. Lots of pretty legal drugs. I need to feel better, I feel like I am heading into battle and I cant be coughing away as I slay down the obstacles. I am a lot more calm than I thought I would be. Yes my aunt is a bitch (I have called her every name in the book this last week including but not limited to: Mother Fucker, Douche Bag, Son of A Bitch, Evil Whore, and recently Cunt. But for some reason that one still sounds weird coming out of my mouth).

Outside of this blog I do not talk about my personal life. I mean people at work like me, because I appear to have no problems. I don't bring my bad days to the job, I try to make everyone feel good, and I don't bitch (even when I want to). This doesn't mean that i do not want to do all of these things, but I physically don't know how. I am much more of a listener than anything else, and I silently scream my problems from the inside hoping someone will take notice of the moments when I am not smiling, and when I am completely torn up about something. After learning of the news on Monday, I went to work feeling bad. But no one could tell, because I was personable and smiling and trying to be okay, for them, for me...for me.

But then I saw the janitor and I felt this need to have someone listen to me for once. For someone to ask how i was doing so I could spill the truth. I wanted that person to be him, maybe because I am attracted to his nice muscles, and he was wearing a blue sweater that almost made the uterus drop to the floor again. Whatever the case when I saw him, I wanted to talk, or more importantly I wanted someone to listen to what I had to say.

But The Janitor, proving that he may be a attention loving whore (who looks great in royal blue!) had his own problems he wanted to discuss, which I listened to for a good long time. His cat was hit by a car on Sunday, and he didn't want to come in on Monday but he didn't want to stay at home and have to deal with it. Apparently he loves animals so much that he looked almost distraught talking about the incident. It's not that I didn't care (because I do/did) but as I was standing there imaging him in that blue sweater and the muscles hidden underneath them, I couldn't help but wish that I had someone to listen to me. Even if for a moment.

At 23, it is something that I need, especially as I begin to develop relationships with people. Especially as I figure out a crap load of things about myself, and these weird things called needs/wants that make life a little easier. I need an apartment, I need a entry level career, I need this all to work out so that in the future I can look back on these times and laugh, instead of cry. But first I need to get some rest, I seriously think I'm dying. I hope this medication works.