In 2015 I was 24, recently single, depressed, and on the rebound. It was the latest breakup in what was already (and would continue to be) a violently toxic, on-again/ off-again relationship that would haunt me for years to come.
My friends, Bill and George, had invited me over to their place for the weekend. Plan so far was to bar hop Friday night, then hang around by their pool, or go to the beach, and just drink and party for a few days because why not. A group of us met up at their place, pregamed, and then hailed a couple cars and were off into the night. I had a good time out on the town, but I struggled with being in the moment. I knew I was just trying to distract myself, and I didn’t want to get too fucked up before we got back to the house. I was painfully lucid for most of the evening out.