Out of the past eight months or so, the first five has been a ride. Pretty much drunk on most nights, I met so many people (including her,yes.), and I thought this was my answer to the mundane life (hey, I got to meet LMF and watch The Prodigy), and it was all good. It was living the dream. But it wasn't. Good things don't last forever, nor does stability, and it all came crashing down when I realised that I wasn't moving anywhere. I wasn't progressing. It wasn't viable. I had forgotten that this was meant to be a twisted social experiment with myself at the core, a taster of sorts to see what life could be like on the limit, and whether what I'd worked for could work as I'd imagined. I was hooked. I didn't want to give it up. I didn't want to not see her again. I didn't want to let go.
But I have.
It took me a good two months or so to return to normality. And now that I'm back, I'm not sure I want to be here. I'm not sure this is the place I'd left behind. I'm not sure I can still function the same way I did before. I've seen things, experienced things that I never thought would come together, felt joy, the pain, the blurred line between the life of reality and the party, and let me tell you something; watching that sunrise alone at a McDonalds after a night out: that defines you. It's hard to forget the images. It's hard to forget the music, the emotion stirs every single time I hear a familiar tune. The story's the same everywhere I go, it's like being a part of a club that has disbanded, with everyone headed in different directions. I'm not sure if I will be able to return to this life again soon enough. I'm not sure if, when I'm ready I can top what had come and gone.But if there's one thing I can tell you:
I will sure as hell try.