It was a good night, Saturday. I danced quite a bit and I have missed that more than you could imagine, and I hung out with
And I feel like that, now. 24-year-old me doesn't care much whether people are interested in her because she is so petrified of doing anything with anyone anyway that it largely seems irrelevant; 18-year-old me used to kneel in front of people in the street in the rain and try to make them take her home. I mean, really, I would much rather be the way I am now, scared stupid but much less likely to make a public exhibition of myself in ways that will come back to haunt me in the manner of Russell Brand's conscience. ("...and I believe this is verbatim...")
But I nearly reverted to type at that damn club, and did more than enough of making an ass of myself afterwards, and so now basically I kind of want to melt myself to death! And it was good to dance, and I'm sure I'll go back, and I hope I'll get used to being around the beautiful people again, but right now I just hurt in a way I haven't done in bloody ages, and I don't know what to do about it. I can't stop wanting to cry.
Bloody goths.
E.
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