When the music’s over turn out the lights…

good ol' days

I sent the above picture to my ex over a year ago. I thought if I wrote it in the sand with a stick it would prove just how much I missed him (always with the dramatics). Pretty sure he ignored it. Right now I want to send this pic to my pre-recovery old fun self. I too should ignore it.

When I look at old partying pics (I know I shouldn’t) it makes me really fucking miss my old life. The late nights that didn’t end, blasting my favorite tunes after getting home from a show. Dance parties ’til the sun came up, attempting then face planting drunk crows pose always got good laugh from whoever stayed up and partied with me.  One friend use to tell me “nothing good happens after midnight”, in my case everything happened after midnight.

Waking up these days sure isn’t as exciting. I no longer live a life full of unexplained bruises, mysterious pizza spatulas in my purse and no more black eyes. Not the day old mascara kind, the broken nose from being punched kind. No more waking up with my neighbors work boots on (I knew him all of 3 weeks)….he was not a part of the evening, just his boots that I stole. No more random limo rides with Jamaicans smoking blunts and ending up at hotel parties. No more missing keys/wallet/phone and no longer trying to piece together 5 hours of an evening that completely vanished in a blackout. Umm, yeah I know. I am even asking myself what the fuck is wrong with me. First for missing it and second for actually admitting I miss it sometimes. Not all of the time, but enough of the time. Fucking twisted. It’s like a toxic ex who I just can’t let go of.

I can hear Jim Morrison singing it now… ‘when the music’s over turn out the lights’ …my song and dance are over and the lights are definitely off (womp womp).

Until the end , until the end …

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