I wonder...

My mind is so mean to me.

Different pieces of Saturday night are coming back to me at random. These are the parts initially drowned by the drank.

I remember after we'd had sex the 3rd time I was laying on him and telling him how special was to me. I didn't tell him I loved him (thank the good lawd), but I remember telling him how beautiful he was, and how he had "no damn clue" how much he really means to me.

I was talking that simp shit for real. And now, I have to wonder if he thinks I'm insane.

Clearly he was nowhere near as drunk as I was. He is a big dude, and he's no novice to drinking. He can get his drank on for reals. But me? Hell naw. I was wasted, no bullshit. And I'm lying there just spilling my damn guts to him. As if he asked me all that. He probably thinks I'm a fuckin nut. Or he thinks I was only saying all that because I was pissy drunk. Either way, the outcome ain't looking so swell.

See, this is exactly why I don't drink. Because now I'm second guessing that whole damn night. The more I recall, the bigger the possibility that I'm looking like a damn asshole-slash-fool in CA's eyes. I hate this. I hate uncertainty in any form. This is why the fuck I don't drink. Now I'm sitting here, should be working, trying to force my mind to remember every little thing I said or did after 9 pm saturday night. The more I remember, the more scared I get.

Fuck me, man. Just...*sigh* fuck me. Lemme go work.