10:11 p.m. - 03.26.2002
I'm an idiot.
I'm such an idiot.
And I'll tell you another thing: I'm tired of the vague bullshit I was doing before. I just want to say it. Isn't that, after all, the point?
Charles called me last night. I know, I know. I swore him off ages ago. I don't if you remember, but it was just after he asked me to give his friend a blow job.
I know! Asshole. Believe me, I know. I spent the past few Charles-free months looking back on realizing how much of asshole he was. And then he calls me.
And I'm pleasant. I'm not all ragin' bitch on him. We talk for a while. About school, and other things. He asked to come over. And what does my dumbass say???
Yes. I said yes.
You know, after watching so many episodes of Sex & the City, I've always wondered how Carrie could keep going back to Big so many times, even after all that happened. Now, I get it. I finally get it.
After sleeping with him, that's when I realized I was an idiot. An idiot for not being able to validate myself, and for feeling the need for others to do so. For wanting so desperately to be with someone. For doing something I didn't want to do, just so I would be considered an object of desire through one person's eyes. For even feeling that I need to objectified like that.
Sometimes I hate myself.
Right now, I loathe myself.
