When​ The Clock Strikes 11

March 11, 2017

The premise of my night was getting complimented by the cutie pie barista when grabbing my usual cup of joe, then proceeding to make him stutter when trying to talk to me. That’s quite the kickstarter, if I do say so myself.

It’s a strange thing when you’re moving up in the world so quickly that you don’t know what to think. Before you know it, you’ve gone from 0 to 60 in 2.5 and the acceleration is exhilarating and all you have to worry about is to not trip over your six inch heels and make a fool of yourself in order to fulfill the bittersweet façade that the world created in your honor.

Needless to say, I felt like a trophy today. Some might shame it, but I embrace it. I felt like a shiny gold statue at the top shelf, prized and protected, a feeling I rarely get.

Also, I had my first club/nightlife experience. I could almost breathe the lust in everyone else around me, but I was mostly breathing in the vapors from the smoke machines. Everything moved in slow motion with the strobes so I felt like I lost my center of gravity more than once. My ears are still ringing and it’s 4 am but I had a grande caramel macchiato and it was raining on the way home, so I can’t really gauge how I should be feeling right now. But I think I had a great time nonetheless.

Again I ran into a couple of highschool mates, all of which were either baffled about my presence, drunk out of their minds, or both, so I got a pretty good kick out of it.

I had more fun than I thought I would and I’m grateful for the experience.

Count your blessings.

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