typeracer

Earlier tonight I went out. I went out hard. I drank a lot of whiskey. I wish I could say I didn't enjoy it, that I felt sick to my stomach, couldn't even look at myself in the mirror afterward, but I can't say that because it was perfect. And that kind of perfection doesn't make me feel weak; it makes me feel strong. I looked at myself in the mirror and I finally recognized that person I once knew so well - that person who went out all the time, sometimes just for fun. And now that I've seen that person again, I don't know if I could ever go back.