Scream.

I’ll laugh until my head comes of
I’ll swallow till I burst…

-Radiohead

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Nothing quite like the feeling that you’re standing in the middle of a crowded room screaming sometimes.

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This semester is going by so fucking slowly. So fucking slowly that words cannot even express. Days melt into the next, slow as molasses. Hours drip by one drop at a time, clocks slowing down and taunting me.

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I got to deal with Abe’s major Meltdown Friday night. It was really fun having to follow his drunk ass around Kaze’s neighborhood, staying a silent shadow behind him as he screamed into the phone and tried to tear apart his relationship, made his friends break into tears. It was hard as hell to stay a neutral party, silently following him as he screamed and threatened to walk into traffic.

I got to watch as he stumbled into ditches, muddied up his clothes, ruined his coat and shoes and fedora, and screamed and raved. I got to drag him into my car, watch him muddy up my seat and my floor, drive him home as he ranted and cried and apologized, called his girlfriend an untrustworthy whore for doing nothing more than neglecting to answer her phone ONCE when he called (she was on the toilet.)

Abe has progressed into completely severely paranoid bi-polar. One wrong word and he’ll go off, rationalizing paranoid notions from his own mind that everyone around him is attempting to sabotage him.

I got to drag him home and undress him. Hang up his ruined muddy clothes, listen to him as he ranted and raved and lamented. Watch him punch a hole in my shower (which is a singular fiberglass unit that will now need to be replaced at my expense.) I got to pour him a bath, hide any and all drinkable or smokable or sharp objects in my room. Listened to him as he sobbed and screamed in the next room, and finally drugged him with an Ambien and put him to sleep for the lack of not knowing what else to do.

It was a horrific evening, and it wasn’t aided by the fact that everyone else related to him and these events seemed to be looking to me for help. What the fuck can I do? These paranoias, these delusions are in his head, and there’s nobody that can convince him otherwise. Kaze and Tyler helped me find him and get him into the car, and then told me that they couldn’t help and I had to deal with him on my own. Erica called me while I was sleeping on the couch in my own apartment, stoned off her ass after Abe set her into a nervous breakdown, asking me what she thought she should do. Drew slept through the whole ordeal, the boy never answers his phone between the hours of 10PM and 9AM. When I talked to him about it the next day he just sighed and told me that he wished he could drive up and help me, but he had to stay in Austin and wait to hear about his interview, and really couldn’t go anywhere until then.

At least he has a relevant excuse, and he was the only person who expressed any sympathy to my plight and expressed some wish of being able to help me, even though he couldn’t.

I got to deal with Abe through the rest of the weekend as he sighed and wailed and moaned, slept in my bed and wouldn’t move. I had to get his ass up, make sure he showered, make sure he ate, make sure he drank water. Thank god he at least had the willpower to get himself up and to the bathroom. I spent the entire weekend sleeping on the couch out of the fact that he attempted to physically take advantage of me while he was drunk that night, despite my repeated requests to tell him otherwise. I finally had to slap him across the face just to knock some sense into him.

How fun is it to tell your best friend that you no longer feel safe sleeping in the same bed as them for fear that they’ll try to molest you in your sleep?

Drew was furious. At least someone was. Drew wanted to mention it to Abe, but I told him to write it off as Abe being completely shit faced this time, and not to mention it unless it happened again.

–

What joy to be 200 miles away from the person you love, sitting in the middle of a shit storm and feeling so utterly helpless as to what on earth you can do. It looks like the mass exodus of getting Abe out of my apartment will begin probably this afternoon. Well, perhaps it won’t be a mass exodus, but it’ll start with a few articles at a time. I need to get my DS and my CD collection back from him out of his dorm.

I’m still having second thoughts about Abe being my roommate next year. Even though he’ll be sleeping in a separate bedroom, I know that this Meltdown was only a pre-shock, that there is a bigger and more severe one lurking just around the corner, waiting to shatter the world. But at the same time, Bonaboo and I are aching for a third person to live at the Alamo with us, as we can’t afford to be paying in excess of $650 a person per month, especially not if I’m going to be paying compounded rent for the first 9 months. At least Abe will be in a separate bedroom, and I won’t have to worry about sleeping on the couch, kicking myself out of my own bed just because I don’t want to have to deal with his shit.

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God, who knows. I just wish this weekend hadn’t happened. It’s only been a week since I’ve seen Drew (we’re banking on a week exactly in about an hour) and it feels like months. For the moment right now, I’ve just got to sigh and pray that Abe’s appointment this morning will help make things right. I just have to pray that they’ll put him on some medication, balance him the fuck out, and that I won’t have to sit and fret and worry about him breaking down again, and me having to hide sharp objects from his dorm room.

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But at least I’ve managed to go 24 hours without a smoke without feeling like I want to kill someone. I’m even sitting here looking at a half a pack, and I don’t even feel the need. I actually feel sick to my stomach just looking at them. Good. Probably from sharing a fucking pack of Menthols with Joy Friday night. Those are enough to break anyone of the habit.

–

At least Buttercup is getting better. Wednesday night she looked like she was on death’s door. Thursday was spent in a blind panic calling every vet in the city, desperately asking if they would see a sick rat. We finally found one who specialized in small animals and saw her. Turns out I may have the first rat in medical history that was born with a heart murmur. She had pneumonia and that’s why she was so lethargic and breathing hard and refusing to eat. We got her some Lasix (heart medication) and some antibiotics, and she’s doing so much better. She’s eating on her own accord, running about her cage, picking fights with Juniper. Makes me feel worlds better, even after the $80 vet’s bill. But now I know she’ll get better, even though she’ll probably have to be on the Lasix for the rest of her life.

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But anyways. Time for me to go to class.

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-M