The day after the meltdown

Today is the day after the earth stood still. Or at least it is for me. I have no doubt that the world kept spinning for everyone else yesterday and to be honest my world kept spinning too, I just watched objectively from an anger filled stupor.

Today, I'm a mess. A for real mess. Seriously it's one of the advantages of having a vagina. The amount of fluid a woman in pain can squeeze between her eyeballs could arm a flotilla. Seriously I have not cried this much in a long time and I feel like a bitch. Not a thug bitch but one of those puss-box bitches that cannot buck-up and defend herself in a fight. Even though we all know that isn't the case. I'm a tough bitch. Even if I do sob inordinant amounts. Sobbing is not indicative of a lack of toughness, in case you were wondering.

Today the anger is gone. Today the hurt and disappointment have settled in. I was really excited about seeing England. Shit I was excited about seeing whats-his-face. I cancelled my ticket today.

The thing I'm confused about is this. Why in the hell was I not important enough for him to say to her 'Hey, look. I've met someone and we've really hit it off so we're going to have to be friends.' Ugh. We all know why. She is there and I am here and he is there and I am not; that is why. It's not fair but it is what it is; it's still stupid. And it still is asinine and obnoxious. And it still hurts my freaking feelings. Even though I'm practically 30 years old and I've spent the afternoon crying like a bitch. Which makes the supposition that I suck at life all the more obvious.

Plus I feel a liiiiiiittle bad for eviscerating him on the interwebs. I mean he is an asshole and all and deserves what he gets but still, I just feel a little guilty is all I'm saying. I'm sure by tomorrow I'll be angry again and I'll have regretted feeling bad. I guess all I really want is an explanation. And a time-line. And the truth.

Hopefully I'll get over all this business soon and get back to being my normal catty, bitchy self and you won't be subjected to my emotional rants. I just need to get it out and it makes me feel better to get it out and this is the media in which I do it. So you're subjected to it and I look like a whiny bitch.

Shrug. Oh well, if the shoe fits.