CHAPTER 8: TRYING TO MOVE ON

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I confided in my friends, Vivian and Emily.


They listened, shocked and sympathetic.


"I feel so stupid," I said, tears welling up.


Vivian hugged me. "Don't be sorry, Amanda. You didn't deserve that."


Emily nodded. "Jake's a jerk. You'll find someone better."


But their advice surprised me:


"Come on, Amanda, it's just your first relationship. Don't dwell on it."


"Get over it. Party. Have fun."


Vivian and Emily took me to a club, determined to lift my spirits.


"Come on, Amanda, forget Jake. Have fun," Vivian said.


The pulsating music and flashing lights overwhelmed me.


But I let go, dancing with my friends.


We laughed, took shots, and met new people.


I started going to clubs regularly, embracing my newfound freedom.


Meeting people, flirting, and having casual encounters.


No strings attached.


No expectations.


Just fun.


My friends were hooked on this lifestyle.


Hookups, not relationships.


I fit right in.


But was this truly liberation, or just a distraction?


Home became a battleground.


Mom and Dad's arguments escalated.


I sought escape.


Rich guys, fancy parties, and temporary highs.


I became a regular at clubs.


Drinking, dancing, and fleeting connections.


My parents remained clueless.


But my mental health suffered.


I numbed the pain with harmful habits.


Watching disturbing videos, exploring dark corners.


My mind reeled,

 lost in chaos.


I lost track of who I was.


Self-worth dwindled.

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