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I’m in my bedroom, after showering and pulling on jeans and a T-shirt, after breakfast, looking a lot more like the wholesome kid of days gone by, rather than the hot mess of clubbing from days ago. My hair is up on top of my head in a messy bun of sorts, and I am texting back a so-called girlfriend ‘Sissy’ in New York. Finally, my absence has been noted, and now that I am clear-headed and have some distance, I can now see how shallow these people really are.

She didn’t text to see how or where I was, she only wanted to know if I was bringing my gold card to the next party to fuel the ch