You know, I wish I had the discipline to write everyday.
But I simply don’t.
I’m the type of person who needs a routine, to be told what to do. I don’t like giving advice because I’m scared to fuck up someone’s life. I will usually end my advice it with “idk that’s what I would do but you do you boo-boo”.
Agh, where am I even going with this post? I don’t know. I should’ve taken my Adderall this morning.
You know what’s funny? I have alter egos for each city. Megan in New York knows everyone and always has an in to awesome parties. However, Megan in Palm Beach likes to watch Netflix and just chill. Megan in Miami is a crazy party girl and is likely to be found at McDonalds around 4 AM. I like New York Megan the most because she’s carefree, wild, and always down to have fun. Oh, and Megan in LA is just a fucking trainwreck.
As soon as I hop on the LaGuardia > PBI flight, I go back to being boring. I think it’s because I’ve already experienced everything down here and met everyone. When I got back from LA last year, I started going out a lot in Palm Beach. I would throw on heels and a nice dress because that’s what most people do here. Now, if I do go out, I will put on a flick of eyeliner and my casual booties.
Getting me out of the house is difficult. A lot of my friends will invite me to go out but I just don’t want to anymore. There’s no more excitement left. I wish there were more things to do here. Or more interesting people. I don’t feel like listening to some stranger talk about their life. I simply do not care.
Does that make me a bitch?
I don’t know, guys, I am writing this on Clonopin and I’m tired.
I miss Kira, Jenny, Bradley, Yaya, Gene, Alexa, Eran, Sean, UGH and so many more.