digusted

I haven't got really drunk in a long time, but Saturday night was bad. Really bad.

I went to a boy from school's house with another school friend and the boy. Playing Centurion with home-made mojitos resulted in me sobbing on the kitchen floor, then later on having a huge blowout with the boy, telling him I didn't need him and screaming at him to stay away from me, apparently spitting in his face (although I don't remember this, and never thought I would be capable of it) and going into the bathroom to find something to cut with (fortunately I didn't find anything). I apologised in the morning, and amazingly he's forgiven me.

Why is it that whenever I end up with something remotely good in my life I have to press the self destruct button? Why do I do it? In relationships I push and push them, I'm constantly testing them to see how much they'll put up with. I don't want to do it anymore, I don't want to fuck up another good thing. I can't help but be filled with self-hatred, I really don't deserve him.