Hangxiety And Considerate Drug Addicts

Sometimes, when I'm really anxious or really depressed I won't eat because then I can just focus on feeling hungry instead.  I tried to do this exact same thing this morning, but instead I ate some apricots. Because apricots are awesome.

I'm still hungry, and still anxious, but now they are both an even feeling so I am naming it: Hangxiety. I will stop talking about this, because A) I have realized that telling people too much never ends well, and B) It makes me sound really crazy.

So here I am, sitting here and feeling hangxious. And apathetic, because I have had a combined total of 18 hours of sleep since Friday because of filming the movie I'm in, Vermilion. I had to take the train at 4 a.m on Saturday to get to Philly on time, so here is an account of my train ride from the Bronx to Penn Station.

4 A.M, car 1: Pretty quiet, there's a homeless dude but he's not the super smelly kind and so maybe he's sane enough to be a witness in case anyone stabs me. Speckled with a few other people, including two sleepy young men.

4:10 A.M, car 1: After falling asleep for a few minutes, I hear a commotion and the sound of something somewhere between a liquid and a solid spilling.  Turns out, the sleepy young men were not really sleepy, just shitfaced. And now puking. Glad he was sitting up.  But really dude, where are you partying this hard in the Bronx?

4:13 A.M, car 2: I'm exhausted, upset, and generally miserable. I get stuck on a car with a bunch of loud, screaming, idiotic men that are yelling in very strident voices, probably about how they are general burdens on society and probably were born because their mom's couldn't afford birth control. Guy next to me is very very red.

4:16 A.M, car 2: Guy next to me is even redder. He's started saying some non-sensical things. I look to the two cars surrounding me and it's either puke car or the one that I'm pretty sure I just saw a homeless man pee into. I'm stuck.

4:22 A.M, car 2: Guy next to me is probably on Meth. He's started yelling at the air and at me, but assuring me he'll be fine once he reaches his stop. That's considerate I guess.

4:30 A.M, car ...well,train 2: I switch to the express train to escape them all, only to be followed by the gang of parakeets.  I am too tired to even be angry, and I resign to a miserable existence for this morning, and hope they all die a very early and painful death. Preferably by alcohol poisoning.

Once at Penn, I met up with another cast member. He's strapped for cash due to some bad circumstances and so I buy his ticket. I feel like a terrible person, because instead of feeling like I really helped someone I feel taken advantage of. How terrible of a person must I be, in order to feel like I'm being duped when I help someone out?

I kind of don't want to live on this planet anymore. I think I'd do better on a different one.

-Grace #Adulting

Defensiveness and the case of the Mondays

Today as of now, has been a very tough day. I wish I had a real excuse as to why, but I don't. Even if I did, it would just sound whiny and I know no one actually wants to read whiny self pitying Grace.

What do you do when all the thoughts in your head are so garbled and coated with moroseness swirled with a dash of chaos, that whenever you try to voice a thought or process an honest remark all you can do is spew out bile and want to hide in yourself until no one can ever find you again?  How does anyone communicate effectively, please, all you actual adults that don't suck at the most basic of human functions, PLEASE tell me how you do it.

Because as of right now, I just want to not exist, and I have neither a flask, blunt, or a dog to comfort myself with and the boss is in the office so I can't look at animal videos. One of the most frustrating things about adult life is how lonely it is. I have great friends and a great boyfriend, but I don't feel like I can talk to anyone because I barely understand myself.

Also, slowly but surely, I am starting to hate my job.  I actually got reprimanded for not putting a space between two words in an email solely meant to provide a coworker with a phone number, and she CC'd my BOSS on it. It may seem small, but little things like that show me how petty someone is.

Fuck bitches, make money.

-Grace #Adulting