Years ago I quit drinking. Not for my health, not for my kids. But because I was so self destructive.
One is too many, and a million just ain’t enough.
I get high for the feeling. Or could it be the lack there of?
In the past few months, I’ve had several people from my past reach out to me. Most are around my age and … regretting life? missing their youth? I’m not sure. Some are drunken texts at midnight, others just random stupid texts about nothing.
I guess it’s nice to know that people still remember me, but these people I haven’t talked to in 20 or so years. I’m not the same person, neither are they.
What is it about us that we so desperately reach into the past to be happy? I’m no different, just why? We know it’s not any better? Those stupid nostalgia glasses, looking back it wasn’t so bad, it was only in the moment that we thought it was the end of all things.
My birth anniversary approaches, and I’m just more and more pissed off about it, let’s just be done with it, people can pretend they care for the day and then we can all go back to not giving a fuck about each other.
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