I used to party. I used to smoke weed. I used to do a lot of things that now make my face burn with shame. I used to lie. I used to hit and hurt and hide. I used to be a lot of things I wasn't. Certain memories make my insides squirm. I was crazy, I'm not anymore. It's a weak excuse, but it makes me sleep easier.

I feel like everything has come full circle. Like maybe, all those fucked-up nights with my fucked-up drug-friends, like maybe it was meant to happen. I can't decide if I'm better or worse for it. Had I not gone to rehab, I wouldn't have the appreciation for life and for people that I do now. Had I not screwed up my life, I wouldn't have had the chance to learn from fixing it. I've never loved my family more. I've never been more stable and self-sufficient.

I guess the only way to truly see growth, is to be able to look back, and feel shame, and see how far you've come.

There are some memories I wish I could erase. Some moments I would take back. Some people say that there is no point to regret. But there is. If I didn't regret something, I didn't learn from it. I regret Paulie. I regret drugs. I regret disowning my true friends and my family. I regret it, because none of those things [drugs, drug-friends] are with me anymore; like a long, drawn-out nightmare, those things passed...but I regret them, like a truly powerful electrical fence that I grabbed, and know never to touch again...I've learned.

I don't think I've ever been more set in sobriety, because I've seen just how low I can fall...

Screwing up my life, everyone asks me, "how bad did you feel. How bad did it suck? How depressed were you?" Here's the truth: I had fun on drugs. At the time, I loved my friends. If I didn't, I would have stopped. If it wasn't fun, I wouldn't be addicted. But heres the other truth. Just like rolling down an enormous grass hill, laughing as I went down, I was left to look up and see how far I'd fallen, how much ground I lost. The trip back up that hill was terrifying. I know now that it's a trip I could only make once. I appreciate my sobriety now. My family. The friends I have.

Some pictures take me back to moments that make my face burn. But not all of them would I take back. Some friends I used to have, they weren't all bad. But I'm better off without them. It's hard.

I write all this because I've been having strange dreams lately. Lots and lots of strange dreams. I think the only reason I liked certain people back then was because they were unattainable. A certain figure keeps haunting me. I wake up, with Zach's arm sloped over my shoulder, feeling as though my heart is taking arms against my better judgement. I fall back asleep feeling traitorous.

I have a great life now. I feel like a lot of the things I've been through have made me bigger, more adult. Smarter. Grateful. Productive and focused.

I lost my virginity to a boy I'll never see again, who disappeared as fast as the wind, and what I wouldn't give to have that back, to be innocent again, and to be whole. I think I lost part of my soul and sanity to that person.

I say all this for reasons I can't exactly describe.

I don't know what love is, but I know what security is. It's a studio apartment in Gladstone, shared between Zach and I. It's being able to be honest with someone. To help eachother instead of hurting one another.

I love him, I think. But I can't explain the dreams either.

I regret a lot, but am thankful for the new appreciation I have for life.

I can't ride roller coasters anymore...my new phobia of danger is that extreme.