It’s 11:37 pm on December 31st. This was going to be — finally — Christmas for my small group of friends. The four of us. And someone else, with a much larger house with more bathrooms, volunteered to host.
And we all met there.
And now I’m home. Two hour drive there. And a big messy mess of messiness. And a two hour drive home.
I’m not going to do a whole play by play. Not much happened really anyway.
But what did happen brought on a full-blown panic attack. And I had to leave.
And as I drove I wondered if I just left forever. I feel like something broke tonight. I didn’t break, but something did.
I’m not angry, tho I sort of want to be. I’m just very, not sad exactly but that’s probably the nearest emotion.
There is absolutely no point this post. But at the same time I feel it is very important that I type it.
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