Monday, May 23, 2011

Pretty, Pretty Please

If I have one more nightmare, I'm going to shoot myself in the fucking face.
I fell asleep last night crying on Jacob's chest. Literally.
Night before that, I woke myself multiple times crying in my sleep. Pretty sure I woke dad, too.
I hate this shit. I'm so fucking over this town. I want out NOW.

We (Jacob, Ariane, her beau Andrew, and myself) went to get Chinese food last night from Ho-Ho on Parmer & Lamar. I didn't even think about the fact that Lamar is past Metric when driving down Parmer from Jacob's condo. It's very difficult for me to even be on Parmer east of MoPac, and I cannot drive through the Parmer/Metric intersection without having a panic attack. We were stopped at the red light before crossing MoPac & I asked Jacob if we had to cross Metric. He said yes. I crinkled my eyebrows and tried to stifle the oncoming tears, but I couldn't stop them. I took some xanax. As soon as we crossed MoPac, I pulled my knees up to my chest and blocked my eyes until we got to Lamar. When we'd picked up the food, Jacob pulled out of the parking lot and didn't get in the turn lane to go back down Parmer. Ariane & Andrew asked him where he was going; why was he getting on I-35? He answered very nonchalant, "Oh, I was just going to go up to 183." A tear formed and that ball rose in my throat as I choked out a quiet, "Thank you." I grabbed his hand and held it tight with my face resting against it while my tears rolled down and got trapped between our fingers. I looked around at the businesses on the access road of I-35 as we drove and muttered, "Goddamn, I'm so fucking over this town," and put my head back down into my lap, my forehead pressed hard against the back of Jacob's hand that was being held hostage in my grip. I told him again once we were on 183, "Thank you for going to extra-super-long way around so we wouldn't cross Metric again." He smiled at me and kissed my hand.
I don't want to leave this guy. No one will ever treat me better than he does; no one will ever love me more than he does; no one will ever understand (or at least put up with) my neurosis as well as he does. No one will ever love him more than I do. He is the only thing I don't want to leave in Texas.
But like I said last night, I am sofa king over this godforsaken town.
Can we please go now?

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