Dear whoever,

6

JULY 25

Dear whoever,

Wishing is nice. But wishes don't come true overnight or without hard work. I wish I could be happy. I wish I could smile often. I wish I could truly love myself, love life. And I make all these excuses as to why I'm not happy and why I don't smile and why I hate the life I'm living. But if I would just stop, and look around and try to find the good in myself and in my life then maybe all my wishes, would become reality.

Today I feel: determined

determined to change myself 

determined to be more like Quinn and less like me

determined to rewire my brain and make an effort to find all the bright sides

I learned much too late that happiness is a choice. For most of my life I've been allowing the little voice in my head to control my feelings. The voice in my head is a bitch. I'm finally going to let myself ignore it. Ignore all the negativity that surrounds my every thought and stops me from enjoying anything. For too long have I let a dark cloud hover above my head. For too long have I looked at everything in black and white. No one can help me except myself, because I am the problem. I've been unconsciously and unintentionally tearing myself apart year after year. Now I'm going to put myself back together piece by piece. I need to get rid of the things that make me unhappy and cling onto the things that bring me joy. 

I slid the precious notebook under my bed, grabbed my keys from my dresser and walked out of my room, heading to the kitchen. I opened my fridge and grabbed all the alcohol that sat in it. I placed them in a black garbage bag carefully, not wanting the glass to break. I opened all my cupboards and took out the half empty, actually half full, bottles of vodka, tequila , whiskey and rum. I placed all of them in the bag and tied it. As I stared at my now almost empty cupboards and fridge I felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. 

Alcohol didn't make me happy, it made me numb.

I picked up the bag and dragged it to my front door. It was heavier than I thought it'd be. The sound of the bottles hitting each other was the only sound in my apartment. I opened my door and pushed the bag outside, trying to make as little noise as possible so Louise wouldn't complain to the landlord that I woke up her darling mutt at six in the morning. 

After fishing my keys out of my front pocket and locking my door I grabbed the bag and headed towards the flight of stairs. They seemed to go down forever, but I knew it was only sixteen steps give or take a few. I sighed before using all my strength to pick up the bag and descend the flight of stairs while trying not to trip over my own feet and or let the bottles rattle too loudly in the bag. When I finally got to the first floor I was out of breath and my face felt flushed. Who knew I was so out of shape? I go to the gym almost everyday but I guess an hour or so of bench presses and elliptical running wasn't enough. 

After catching my breath for a minute or two, I squinted my eyes (I forgot my glasses, again) in the direction that the neighborhood dumpster was situated. I lived fairly close to it but not close enough for it to be a disgusting inconvenience. I had to pass maybe seven other buildings to get to it. The moon and scarce street lamps were my only source of light. I debated just leaving the bag in a near by bush for someone else to deal with, but then my morals kicked in and I grabbed the bag once again and began dragging it as quietly as I could through the neighborhood. 

After what felt like days I finally reached the smelly dumpster where neighborhood trash was supposed to be dropped off. I looked down at the bag without a hint of uncertainty, longing, or regret. I might feel like shit in a couple days and question why the hell I through away almost two-hundred dollars worth of alcohol. But as of right now at six a.m on Thursday, July twenty fifth, I don't regret a damned thing. And with those thoughts running in my mind I picked up the bag and chucked it into the dumpster, the sound of it crashing on to of the other bags and some of the glass breaking was fulfilling.