I am slowly growing fearful.
This weekend was a mixture of amazing and terrible, last night in particular. I am obsessed with laughter, and there was a lot of that, and there was kissing and whataburger at five in the morning and there was dancing nearly topless onstage at a Big Boi concert (I swear to god, it happened, I did it), but there were also stress induced rapid vodka shots and guilt trips and anger and a video that shouldn't have been made and didn't get out but the threat was enough to cause damage. This is all beautiful because A) it is bonding time, regardless of how awful some of it was and B) it makes for really interesting stories, and, because of that, really interesting writing material. But the thing is, there is a feeling creeping up on me that I am going to have to choose between some people, and I don't like that, because I already know who I would choose in a heartbeat and the choice I'll make will not make my life easier, just happier.
I love everyone but I know everyone doesn't love everyone, and I hope other people know how to trust better than I do. Those pictures aren't mine.
I love you,
ps. I'm writing.