21 is Savage

Do you ever get anxiety about the stupid shit you are going to do? I physically feel nervous for things I neither want nor plan to do, but who the hell knows. May 1. It is the day that legally I can buy and consume alcohol. April 21. I just hit 8 months sober. I should *emphasis, prayer, locking me in a bedroom* hit my 9 months in May. I don’t want to be 21, I don’t want the temptation. My fakes were taken, no one I knew was going to buy me alcohol and when I was past that point and did go out, I was mentally prepared. I AM NOT CAPABLE OF BEING MENTALLY PREPARED 25/7.

I am impulsive. Literally for as smart as people tell me I am, I gotta whole lot of stupid. There are some poor judgements, lack of morals, disregard of consequences or general feelings, ideas along those lines in addition. You don’t know your future and that makes me want to break down and scream. I HATE not knowing if I’m going to go flying off into an episode like Peter Pan into f**king Neverland. I HATE picking up the pieces, all the trust I lose, and all the people I hurt. I HATE sorting through the bullshit of mental lows, highs, and the me I’m trying to become. Sometimes drowning the shell of yourself in tequila then lighting a match to it all seems so much better. I’d rather burn in flames than in desires to be different.

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