I'm not sure exactly what about parties I hate but it might be the fact that I love parties. I love party music, & party clothes, & party food, & even party people for the most part, but god, I hate parties. 

I love people & presents & noise & laughter & cork popping & games & ...I really think the only thing I hate about parties is that I hate  parties. I want nothing more than to show up & enjoy all the things that I, well, enjoy, ...but I just can't. The second I walk through the door & enter the room it's like all the air is vacuumed right out of it, & it's the brightest darkness you've ever experienced. It's like I'm some robot & there's a fail safe that goes off the second I enter anywhere I might actually enjoy myself. A big old 'nope' button.

How you can manage to be at war with yourself, fighting for yourself, will never not be confusing to me... & I'm literally, a thousand years old.

I tell you all of this because by the time it came around to go to the Lacie Stevens party, I was looking forward to it, & dreading it at the exact same time. Welcome to my life. The one positive was that I hadn't had 'an episode' in at least a few days now & if I had, it at least was courtesy enough to leave me asleep or not make me look like a fool in public. So, thank you unknown demon? But that wasn't making up for the fact that I was having serious anxiety about it anyway because I always have serious anxiety &, I say this without the slightest hint of irony in the world knowing I am a sixteen year old girl getting ready for a party but, I have nothing to wear. & don't you dare try & pull the gender crap on me about that because first of all, erroneous, & second of all, your hair does not naturally look perfectly disheveled, bro, so nice try.

I grabbed a cute sweater to pair with these boots I'd just got for fall, said, 'whatever,' as I closed my closet door mirror, winked at my Tom Cruise poster, sprayed some perfume, & glided out my room, down the stairs, & in to Meg's car. Meg's parents were rich as hell & she'd just gotten her temporary license. This was maybe the fourth time she'd ever drove by herself but we acted like this was normal. 

'You ready to party, girl!?'

Oh, poor Meg.

That look I gave her just screams,  "gag me with a spoon."