10/10

I can't believe I forgot about this.

Have you ever had a simultaneously best/worst day of your life? Look at me: asking a question to an answer that only I can answer, because it's only me that's going to be reading this damn thing.

When I started writing the List earlier tonight, I was going through documents and documents of old high school boyfriends, collages that I made, similar to the disgusting post below this one. I found that I'd taken a screenshot of it and looked up the blog URL. They didn't have "My Name is Pearl," but they had "My Name is Pearl Dickey," which didn't have the same ring to it, but I was 15 and I was in "love" and I didn't care. I actually called up R.T., and I actually mentioned this blog to him. He got a big kick out of it. The reason it only has one post is because I showed it to him the next day. He got furious and told me that if anyone ever found "that girly shit" all his friends on the soccer team would never let him live that down. I remember telling him that if he wanted to keep his "grass fairy friends" over me then he could go right ahead. And...he did. Though he thought the story was funny, he didn't really understand the concept of the List. So I explained it to him. And if this thing gets me killed I'll go ahead and have the cops dig this up so it all makes sense.

R.T. wasn't the first boy to be a dick to me. I've had a long, very painful list of exes who have ridiculed, abused, and...even assaulted me. R.T. is probably at the bottom of the list of bad exes, but I remembered his dad was this ex-military conspiracy nut. R.T. would tell me all about these wild things his dad believed, his massive ammunition shack he kept by their trailer. Crazier things have happened in Stafford, Virginia. Since I want to start this List, I figured having someone like R.T. on my side would be crucial.

God, I'm easily distracted. M.D. keeps me focused with our conversations, but my ADHD is a relentless beast. I should explain the best/worst day paradigm. M.D. had started coughing earlier last week because of the smell of my Marlboros, though she never complained about it. I'd just bought a fresh pack on the 8th, but I hadn't opened it, and I wanted to quit for good this time, so I went to return them. Starting over, I felt like splurging a little, and with the refund I got for the cigs, I bought a lottery ticket, ThreeFruitz, the one Momma used to get when she had a bad day at work. As I'm heading back to my apartment, cutting through the hospital parking lot, I see an '05 red Dodge Neon and right before it hit me I knew exactly who it was. I know for a fact it belonged to H.Z., an old friend of dad's.

I didn't want any medical or cop help (God knows they didn't help me when I was raped outside P.J.'s barn) so I trudged home, and M.D. helped me inside. I threw the ticket down and, damn it all, there's a winning ticket, "three grapes" as M.D. put it. We just won ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS, and after taxes that's still gonna be about $80,000. I started writing down the make of the car and H.Z. and everyone else associated with him, until M.D. brought up some really good points. What about the others? J.Y. threw a BRICK through my window, and N.N. who slashed my tires after I told him I couldn't come up with my half of the rent...half of his brother's rent. H.Z. is naturally who I'm gonna go after first. But why stop there? All these scumbags still live in the Stafford area, and the rest I'm sure haven't gone that far. I want to use this blog as a sort of journal, every week tracking my progress.

I'm exhausted now. Happy but exhausted. I ordered my sister a pizza, with her favorite, no cheese no sauce. So it's basically bread. But it's bread I can afford. And I'm happy with that.

-P