Diaries of an Unemployed Debtor – Part 1 is now available!

Diaries of an Unemployed Debtor – Part 1

Read and review!

I Tried To Kill Myself. (June 27th, 2018)

Saturday night.  I sat on the deck texting friends, trying to make plans for the night.  I was already shit, showered and shaved, ready to fo at a moments notice.  I hadn’t started drinking because I knew I was going way up north to meet up with people.

My main plan was to go to Westport with an old friend from high school.  She had texted me earlier in the evening, asking me what I was doing that night.  She was at dinner with a friend and would let me know when they were on their way.  As I sat on the deck, trying not to sweat through my nice clothes, I received a text from her telling me that while at dinner, her car had been towed.  We spent the next hour and a half texting back and forth as she tried to track down her car.  By the time she got it back, she was not in the mood to go out.  Plus, she wasn’t planning on staying out too late.  She was scheduled to help her cousin with his proposal the next day.

As soon as she started talking about her car getting towed, my expectations dropped to about zero.  There was a slim change we were going to hangout.  I decided to start trying to develop a backup plan.  My first instinct was to text my go-to gal pal.  We always hung out, but not so much lately.  She already had plans to go to the Plaza to celebrate her friend’s birthday.  I swear, all her friends’ birthdays have been in the last month.  The only time she doesn’t invite me is when she hangs out with them.

Well shit.  Now what was I going to do?  The girl that loves me was out of town and I didn’t really hangout with my other friends very often anymore.  I decided, anyways, to send a message to our big group chat.  It basically includes everyone in the old friend group minus my go-to gal pal.  She was almost always part of the group, but in the past couple months, I feel that she has been alienated.

I started in with a funny, to try and get some responses.  Often enough, none of the 10ish people would respond.  “Butt chugs?!”  That was what I went with.  A couple of nights before, I had watched (Cock) Blockers.  There is a scene in which John Cena has to ‘butt chug’ a beer.  It was funny.  I wasn’t really suggesting that we do that, but it was enough to get a couple people to respond.  One of my friends thought it was like a new bar in town.  That would be a great name for a bar.

Despite the witty banter, no one tried to make plans.  I didn’t ask because I was the broke deadbeat and I couldn’t really do anything unless someone else paid.  I didn’t want to force that on someone.  I had already done it before.  So, I sat on the deck, bored, sober, with nothing to do.  I waited for my parents to go to bed.  I made some spaghetti with beef and au jus; trust me, it’s good.  I was hungry and needed a coverup to sneak some alcohol out of the liquor cabinet.  I had been slowly taking bottles of the shit my dad didn’t drink regularly.  Tonight, it was gin.  My dad came down shortly after I started cooking and almost caught me getting into the liquor cabinet.  That was close.  I ran out of coke, so tonight, it would be gin and margarita mix.  Yeah, it was pretty gross.

I ate and drank, then went back out onto the deck.  It was a pretty nice night.  I just sat and relaxed, but soon, the fiend of nicotine was hitting hard.  I had run out a couple of days earlier; day two was always the worst.  Previously, I had taken an old broken cigarette from the floor of my car in order to hold off the cravings.  It was big enough for three drags; not nearly enough.  I knew my neighbor always had cigarettes.  She was sitting outside for a long time talking to someone.  I decided to walk over and just ask.  She was happy to give me some and the three of us sat and talked for maybe an hour.  The other woman turned out to be my neighbor’s late husband’s sister.  It was a nice conversation and at the end out it, my neighbor let me take the rest of the pack; six or seven cigarettes.  They didn’t last long.

I went back to my house, grabbed the portable speaker, made another drink, and went back onto the deck.  I started listening to country music, drinking and smoking cigarettes.  Wasn’t a bad night for having no life on a Saturday night.  Eventually, my dad came down to get some water.  I couldn’t hide my drunk.  I came clean about what I had been doing the past week.  We got into it.  I remember getting angry; he had to keep telling me to quite down because my mom was sleeping.  By the end of the argument, he had decide that it was time for me to go; he was going to kick me out.  This just made me drink more.  I went back outside and didn’t turn down the music, like I was told.  I don’t remember what happened next.

I drank three-fourths of a handle of gin in just a few hours.  As you can imagine, I was hungover as fuck.  I drank the leftover water bottles sitting on my bed and slept until my dad woke me and told me to be downstairs in five minutes.  I went down and was told to take a seat.  He told me the I crossed the line last night.  He filled me in on the missing events and informed me that I need help and if I wasn’t willing to get it, he would kick me out.  I agreed to seeking help and went back to bed.  I laid there and cried.  I thought about how I would live on the streets.  I didn’t really want help.  I had already been in a place and it wasn’t much help.  Eventually, I calmed down.  Then, I started to develop a plan.

My parents had emptied out all the alcohol in the house, but they forgot one bottle.  I had stashed the gin in my room and there was still some left.  I waited till my parents went to bed, went downstairs and made some leftover spaghetti, grabbed on of my mom’s Diet Pepsis, went back upstairs , and started drinking.  If I was going to get kicked out, I was at least getting drunk tonight.  I even thought about packing up and leaving in the middle of the night.  As I slowly drank, I decided otherwise.  I don’t remember what I watched while I drank,  but it made me happy.  By the end of the third drink, I was craving a cigarette.  I was definitely going to want a last one of those.  I grabbed my keys, took my dad’s credit card, and drove to the gas station.  I probably shouldn’t have driven, but with what I was about to do, I didn’t care.  I made it there and back safe, but when I got home I couldn’t get my car in park.  I thought it was my grandpa trying to interfere.  Eventually, I said fuck it, put the car in neutral, left the keys that wouldn’t come out, put the E-brake on, lock it up and went inside.  I made another drink and went out back to chain smoke a few before it was time.  I remember sobbing like crazy.  I couldn’t believe what they said I did and I didn’t want to live with myself after that.  I went back inside, upstairs, into my bedroom and started taking my entire prescription of anti-depressants while I killed the last fourth of that handle of gin.  When I was done, I sat watching my stories and smile.  I waited and there were no more tears.