It's futile. It's over. I'm fucked. Why even pretend to have a social life anymore? I'm throwing my friends out at 1 AM after a uniquely dissatisfying evening spent doing nothing. I turned down every single opportunity to have anything resembling a good time, and I'm fairly certain that doing all those things would just have bored me too.
What's happening to me? I find myself trying to remember what it was I used to do to have a good time, and I can't. All my time seems to have been spent wishing I was doing something else. When I'm sober, I can't wait to get drunk and be stupid. When I'm drunk, I curse myself for even touching the stuff, and wait 'til I'm sober so I can get shit done.
And that fucking girl. I leave her for no particular reason, and then find myself inexorably drawn back to her, for no particular reason. Would being with her make anything better? Probably not. But here I am, doing nothing, wishing I was doing her.
I need a hobby.
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