Balancing My Virgo Laden Scales With A Sledge Hammer
It's been over a week since my not so triumphant return from Lost Vegas. I have been doing my best to recall the details, however insignificant, to retell such an epic tale of debauchery. But something strange happened along the way and it took a trip to my most favorite desitnation in the lower 48 to realize how unbelievably deep in a funk I am. This in and of itself is not the reason for my unhappiness, the fact that I am having so much fun being miserable is the problem.
Let me explain.
A series of events has been set in motion that I have been powerless to stop. Being a SWM, I am forced to meander about my ways utterly alone without a better half to balance me out. Balance is the key as without restraints in place, my passions tend to short-circuit my sense of logic and I over indulge on a regular basis. Whilst I have done a fair job of raining myself in during the normal work week, my weekends are a non-stop orgy of abuse that includes binge drinking, chain smoking, bong rips and sins of the flesh as fast and as hard as I can pile them up. I do this all quite well, as I have had tons of practice and am a self-proclaimed professional at such social endeavors. And when I'm in the midst, caught up in the moment and letting it all "hang-out" so to speak, I have a rip-roaring good time. Whether I come away with an "I can't make this stuff up" story, a heart felt tale of good Vs. evil or a simple anecdote to retell to all those that will listen; there is always something to see, something to do and something to take note of. And this makes me a not so happy camper.
When the last drink is drunk, the last cancer stick burnt, the last bowl cashed and the last condom flushed I am alone.
There are no sets of eyes peeking over the blankets come monday morning. The soft nape of a neck to brush my lips against is never present in a cold dark house. No one holds me when I am sad and I can't for the life of me remember the last time a slut red finger nail wiped a tear from my cheek.
I'm not sure when I turned into a co-dependent, distincly under-dressed metrosexual; but all the signs are there.
Being a virgo and requiring my scales to balance apropriately is also a problem. Think of it this way; you can only have so much fun when you are the only person balancing out a teeter-totter. It's a two person job and I am sorely in need of a counter balance that has beautiful eyes and boobs.
Happiness is an illusion that I make for myself in order to compensate for things I need to have, but don't have the heart to risk finding.
I think, perhaps, that I may be an extroverted introvert; in need of social gatherings where I can gather my thoughts to be happy. I would say that I can't beging to tell you how frustrating this can be, but I believe I just did.
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