And the truth is…

I am a hypocrite. I don’t practice what I preach. You should not take advice from me, not unless you want to be as screwed up as I am.

I’ve dropped all of my old friends and made new ones, rather reluctantly I might add. Somehow, they’ve managed to talk me into meeting them at a club tonight to see a band that a guy I work with drums for. I don’t understand how they did it --- I hate clubs. They’re loud, smoky and full of creepy guys hitting on innocent girls. I shouldn’t have to worry too much then, my innocence has long since disappeared.

So here I am, holding my tongue, obsessing over the contents of my closet. Sliding the hangers back and forth trying to decide how much I want to care about my appearance. Should I go all out, pretend it’s like the old days when I was out partying with the girls? Should I treat it like any other ‘concert’ and wear suitable attire? Screw this. I’m going for comfortable. I don’t even want to go, have no one to impress. If they’re not happy that they got me out of the house, then that’s their problem.

Wish me luck.

…I miss you, so.