(no subject)
Last night was the first night I've spent in my bed for the last four or five nights in a row. I've had two nights of sober hookup and two inebriated sleepovers with three different boys in the past week, unless you count last night too (which I don't because nothing happened and because I got home at 4:15) in which case it's with four. Four different boys in seven days, come to think of it not four or five, but seven. I'm not sure really what to make of that.
I've become exceedingly good at drinking, and exceedingly good at drinking more than maybe I should. I miss Teen more than anything, and the one boy here who I really want won't kiss me. He'll hold my hand, he'll dance with me, he'll take me back to his room... but he won't kiss me.
And, to make matters worse, I bought a back of Djarum Black last night.
I have an amazing life here, I really do. I have wonderful friends who love me and who take care of me and laugh with me and who I couldn't do without. I'm studying amazing things and being exposed to movies, actors, directors, concepts and entire worlds that I never even knew existed, all at an institution of incredible repute and prestige. I live extremely comfortably and I want for almost nothing material. I'm not saying my life sucks; that's not even remotely my point. My life is incredible, amazing, and I'm so thankful for everything I have and everything I've been given. But what am I doing with myself? Where is all this deviant behavior (deviant for me) coming from? I don't want to think that my search is for somebody else, because I don't want my happiness to be based around another person; but why WHY have I spent the last week in the beds and arms of three different boys? It doesn't even matter what I did with them physically, but what's driving this need for another, this craving for the presence of somebody else?
And now, Sunday night, I'm alone in my room and I feel relieved. Now that that's all over, I'm relieved. But still unsettled.