I guess it was bound to happen--I've fallen off my pink cloud somewhat, and life is a little less electric these days. Not that there's really anything wrong with that. Life is still exponentially better than it was in my use.
I've been writing a CRAZY amount in my memoir, and it's a story that I almost feel I can't rest until I get out. But I have to. The thing is, I've gone to meetings far too little since I began writing, which also means that I haven't been getting out of the house for shit. My roommates are awesome, but they're still my roommates, and they're sort of a given.
Thank God for IOP, because if it weren't for Outpatient I would be like furniture in this mother fucking house. ;)
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