Unstable And Yours

Always Forever

Unedited

Describing my current state as being on edge would be an understatement. Since Friday, I haven't experienced a moment of rest, and even in the company of my friend, I couldn't fully savor the time. Throughout this weekend, I've engaged in various actions that I now regret, with aggravating Giovanni being the most remorseful among them. While I can acknowledge the reasons behind his anger, he has no fucking right, given we aren't together. If he chooses to see other bitches after leading me on, then I should have the freedom to explore connections with other individuals. However, despite this stance, I can't deny a sense of relief that Giovanni intervened before I made a regrettable decision with a random person.

I told the girls  about the messages Giovanni sent me, and they attempted to provide reassurance. However, my familiarity with him makes me nervous. I understand his capabilities, and even though the events of this weekend are somewhat hazy, I distinctly recall how pissed he was.

I have a strong intuition that he's going to be on one.

maybe I should call him and try to be rational.

No fuck that! He needs to mind his business, I'm going to do me and he's going to do him.

But maybe I should try to clear some things up, he probably thinks so little of me now.

I find myself contemplating whether to call, my hand resting on my face, overwhelmed to the point of considering giving up on life entirely. It's been less than a week, and he's already causing immense stress, turning my life into a living hell. As I gaze at the blank screen of my phone, the decision weighs heavily on my mind. Calling him might provoke further anger, or perhaps he's already upset, rendering my call inconsequential. On the other hand, it could have been a momentary burst of frustration, and he might have already forgotten. The uncertainty leaves me grappling with the best course of action.

Yea no Finneas, he isn't the type to make empty threats.

Deciding to leave it alone, the more I dwell on it, the heightened anxiety becomes apparent. Perhaps it's time to consider distancing myself from him entirely. It seems evident that he desires something I cannot provide, and a complete disassociation might be the necessary step for my own well-being.

A sudden feeling of hunger grips me, and I acknowledge that I haven't eaten anything in a while. Yesterday, I woke up to a wave of nausea and depression, reluctant to even leave my bed while battling a massive headache. The overall experience was terrible, and it's something I never want to go through again. The advice about not mixing drugs and alcohol, which I've always been told, now resonates with a newfound understanding based on my recent ordeal.

Entering the kitchen, I retrieve some leftover Alfredo, placing it into the microwave. Next to it is a box of my mom's wine, and although I've never tried it before, it looks tempting now. The thought crosses my mind that if she were to discover I drank some, it would be trouble. However, the temptation wins, and I pour a small amount into a wine glass, savoring the taste of the fruity alcoholic beverage, taking a risk with the clandestine indulgence.

The atmosphere is now serene and quiet, creating a sense of relaxation. As I hum softly, I move back and forth between the kitchen and the foyer. However, the pitch darkness of the living room suddenly grabs my attention, rendering it impossible to see anything. Attempting to switch on the lights proves futile, with the switch refusing to cooperate despite my efforts. Fortunately, I spot a decorative lamp nearby, unplugged but available. Setting my wine glass on a table, I bend down to plug in the lamp, bringing a welcome illumination to the dim room.

Having accomplished my task, I reach for my wine, only to have it hastily dropped to the ground as my eyes lock onto Giovanni seated on one of the couches, farther away from me. The shock is so intense that I'm unable to muster a scream; instead, all that escapes is a gasp, caught off guard by his unexpected presence.