they say to fake it until you make it but i can't anymore.
the tipping point happened sophomore year of college.
i was living with three fast, crazy, wild girls and the nights remained blurry and the mornings hazy and hungover.
body parts were exposed, pot was smoked, and furniture ruined beyond repair.
the dark side of this life slowly unleashed itself.
there was the constant morning ritual of one girl
who would agonize over her actions over the night before
berate herself
lament how "guys never took her seriously"
yet that very night, back to her old, comfortable worn-in habits
and the cycle continued.
it was then i decided, no, this isn't for me
wrapped myself in the love and security of my relationship
and searched for and found the friends that wouldn't hesitate to choose my friendship over a bottle of alcohol
who enjoyed good conversation, books, and the occasional bottle of wine
now i wonder, did i make the right choice?
i feel so excluded, so outside this inner realm that these people have created through alcohol, drugs, and the mutual ambition of forgetting the night's events
did i dodge a bullet or am i the person who's locked outside the party in the cold?
because of my current depressive state, the title of this blog is altogether inapplicable
so i will end every post with something good that happened today
happy moment of 4/8: through the somewhat stressful circumstances, i discovered that despite my self-destructive tendencies, my father loves me deeply and will cover the ends of the earth to help me solve my problems
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