Okay, yeah, I just stumbled home from Thing 1's house... I am so messed up right now I don't even know what to do with myself. We both worked until 9, then we both went to her house where we both got FUBAR... I dunno. All I know is I cried A LOT and I'm starting to figure out what my problem is. All has to do with me not being loved enough as a child... blah blah blah. Thing 1 pretty much agrees a therapist would have a fuckin' field day with me...

Aw man, I cried A LOT. I also came onto Thing 1, and she shot me down. Shocking. Oh, and I'm sure I'll be able to face her again while sober and not feel totally stupid about that. Keeping in mind that that last sentence was 100% sarcasm.

I feel stupid and drunk and tired. Also my parents should be here in about 4 and a half hours and I'm sure I'll still be completely messed up by then.

But man, I cried a lot and let me tell you why. It's because I need love. I cried when I saw the way Thing 1 interacted with her stepdad. I don't even interact with my real dad like that. Or my mom, who is the most important person in the world to me. My family... we're not the types who say "I love you" or hug or kiss eachother. And I'm starting to realize I'm one of those people who really needs physical proof of someone caring about them. I always thought I wasn't but man. I am. Thing 1 tells me what when I see my mom today I should tell her I love her, just to see what she says. But I know she won't say anything. I could tell my mom a million times that I love her, and she won't say it back. Even though I know she loves me. She'll never say it. But dammit, I need someone to tell me that they love me. Because that'll somehow make my life slightly more worth living.

It's like Bam. I know he'll probably never love me and I'll probably never love him. But I love the way he looks at me. I love the way he kisses me and holds me. I crave that. I crave that human attention which is so odd because I'm so anti-people, so anti-social, and so anti-being touched or talked to. Oh, but it's all a front, right? I put up a tough front to try to hide how much I'm dying inside because I'm hurting from how much I never get told how loved I am. If I'm loved at all.

I need to go.