I've got 40 minutes to churn this out before the laundry cycle completes itself. Feels exactly like a scene from exchange when I used to write and snack on corn crackers while waiting for the laundry machine to complete its spins.

I AM A MESS.

It sounds like such a pathetic excuse I can use to justify all the bad decisions I've made over the past few months, maybe the past two years. The conversation in my head between my rational and irrational selves goes like this, "Why did you this?" "Oh yea, because I'm a mess that's why so that's okay, just feel bad about it now and then maybe repeat it - because I'm still gonna be a mess anyway."

How lame.

Here's my admission: I'm a mess because of the bad decisions I make. Not the other way around.

So this second half of the week (okay, it has only been two days) was a lot of reflection on my part. I frown upon and cringe at my naivety and stupidity. I hate the bitter feeling of regret, but that has been a recurring emotion that has weighed on me for such a long time. There has been so much weighing on me.

And here I am admitting to myself that I am an emotional wreck: I still don't know how to deal with my feelings. How do I deal with the unhappiness that comes with loss and heartache? Hell, I would rather be void of emotions.

I have now descended to the type of girl that people meet for the first few times and probably whisper what a whirlwind of a mess I am. They'd make a mental note to stay away from me because I would bring nothing but thunderstorms, trouble and heartache - basically, I'm a liability.

Well, tell me something I don't already know.

God I hate myself sometimes. This entire piece seems so hypocritical because I've lost count of the number of times I've told myself that yea, I'm moving on!!! And how many times I've written about it. That I have it in me to look ahead and let the good times go because better things lie ahead than any we leave behind. Everything happens for a reason doesn't it? Yada yada yada yada what bullshit advice I give myself (and others) that I don't take anyway.

But yes, I'm also here to immortalise how I feel about my drunken words and endless badgering (I hate this one the most really).

If I've blabbed to you when I was drunk - I probably meant what I said and just needed the poor, sad excuse of being intoxicated to get it out of me. But I don't truly mean it had I been sober. Do you understand? I would say all these things to you because I mean it, but at the same time, I wouldn't because that would upset the balance of things. So I truly, truly, truly, truly, truly, truly (can you feel my sincerity) want to apologise and take back all the words that I shouldn't have said. This is me saying sorry sober. No, this is me saying sorry sober, NOT after a night of debauchery. I truly mean it. And I would put more effort into not doing it again. Really. I think being drunk just gives me an excuse to be so fucking bothersome but at the end of it, I feel nothing but more self-loathe. I'm utterly disgusted with myself at this stage, at this point in my life.

I'm a fucking mess.

And I'm admitting that I need help. Maybe not that kind of professional help, but I really need those occasional reality slaps to wake me up from my lunacy.

I want to love myself more. Yea I think that's it. I wanna love myself. I feel like I've lost that part of me over the years of trying to cope with the loss and heartache. All of a sudden I say words and do things that make me hate myself even more for.