It's a long way to rock bottom. And I'm not even anywhere close.
I drink too much. I smoke too much pot. I can't remember that last time I was sober.
I do this to myself because
I have nothing better to do.
I have a deep-seeded self-loathing that lurks in the shadows of my conscious self only when I surround myself with people who are worse off than I am.
I'm depressed.
I thought that I could be enough for myself. But I can't.
I wish I could take advantage of this mindstate like I used to, by doing whatever the hell I wanted and not suffering the consequences because I'm smart enough to either not get caught or not care what people think of me, but right now, I care what people think of me. A lot. And for no good reason. And I don't know how to stop, except to hide out in my room and contemplate my split ends while Arrested Development plays in a loop all night long.
"Actually," my brother said when I told him what I've been doing with my evenings, "that sounds kind of awesome."