Okay...It has officially been two weeks since I last wrote. I think that I needed some kind of break. Sort of like a transitional period to get used to the way my life used to be. I thought that it might be hard to go back to the routine that I had before I dated Brian, but so far it hasn't really been as difficult as I imagined. Maybe bad habits never leave you, they just sit back and wait for a time to come again in full force.

And have they ever.

I was kind of hoping that I wouldn't want to do all of the things that I used to again, especially after separating myself from all of it for so long. But, I guess, once an addict, always an addict. The night just sucks you in.

At least when I was dating I had a reason to go home. I had no reason to immerse myself in the life because I had a whole other life waiting for me when I left.

Now, don't go thinking that I'm some sort of pill-popping junkie who spends their time looking for the next big thrill....That's not it at all...Well, not exactly like that.

I live at night when the "normal" people sleep. I eat breakfast around 3:00 PM. Dinner usually takes place sometime after midnight, which means that if I would like to go out and have some fun I don't get out until the rest of you are passing out.

It's that time of night that is exciting. I once brought a friend of mine out with me to the late night scene. The place was crawling with bartenders, cocktail waitresses, strippers, drag queens, drug dealers, and whoever else didn't make it out until then. My friend leaned over to me and told me she felt weird being there, because she felt like everyone knew she wasn't one of them. I told her to relax, no one noticed...but then I did. She looked fresh and bright compared to all of the regulars who looked like they could fade into the shadows if they needed to, just so that their activities (whatever they may be) wouldn't be observed to closely.

She was right. I am from a different breed of people. My mother jokingly refers to me as a vampire, but how far off is she really? I sleep all day and, at night, I prey on the daytimers. I bleed them dry of all their money, only to have them fall over shit faced at the end of the night. I'm sure that some of them have left me and driven themselves home. I'm sure that some of them have been arrested because of what I've given to them. It's also a very realistic possibilty that others have had accidents and injured themselves or others.

But, even after knowing all of this, I continue on and I think that I don't even care, because these people are just faceless individuals in a pack of sheep that trudges on day after day without really getting anywhere.

It's the night that calms me. It's the night that brings with it adventure, the allure of the unknown, and the thrill of possible danger.

Alcohol, drugs, sex...just another night in my world.