It's funny how someone can try so hard to better themselves and mature without accomplishing either. The past five years of my life have been nothing but a downward spiral of depression, substance abuse, and self-hatred. During those years I tried my best to learn from my mistakes, to analyze every reckless action to the point of insanity. I was looking so hard for an epiphany or some grand philosophy of life to emerge and make me feel like I could be alright again. I had hoped that my suffering wasn't pointless, that in the end I could achieve something that would make life worth it. Last night I found what I was looking for, although it was not exactly how I'd imagined it would be.

Yesterday night I was rather bored and not looking forward to going back to work since I had had a week off for Thanksgiving. In my great wisdom I decided to get drunk. Shortly after I'd managed to consume almost two full glasses of straight vodka I ordered some food in the hope of preventing an awful hangover. Unfortunately, I passed out before the delivery man came to the door which resulted in the cops being called. I was so far gone I didn't hear anyone pound on the door or call the phone. The door was unlocked and the police proceeded to spend five minutes attempting to wake me up. It was so wonderful to wake up with a throbbing headache and see police swarming my apartment and pouring out all the remaining alcohol. I was naturally a little irritated and cussed quite a bit and very loudly. Luckily for me I immediately felt waterworks coming moments afterward. I cried so much they decided to take pity on my pathetic soul and not bring me in for underage drinking.

I lost what was probably my only remaining friend from my drug years because someone had to come over and sign a paper saying they would take care of me until I sobered up. She was justifiably upset as this was very late at night and her dad drove her out to my apartment to see an ambulance and two cop cars parked outside. I haven't talked to her since early this morning but I imagine she had a lot of trouble explaining that one. She stayed most of the night, at least until I became dangerously suicidal. I was upset enough to trigger a serious depression relapse. She had to pull a knife out of my hands and keep an eye on the gas stove. Eventually she got fed up with me and shoved me to the floor and left.

So where does that leave me? I am now officially friendless, suicidal, out of alcohol, humiliated, ashamed and so much more. What happened can't be undone so I will do what I always do when I get myself into a situation like this. I'll analyze it, beat myself up over how stupid I was, and add a few more scars to the large collection on my arms. Was I merely involved in a chain of unfortunate events or should this mean something more? Maybe it's a wake-up call telling me that even though I've stopped taking drugs, alcohol isn't a good substitute. That I'll keep messing up my life until I get to the root of my depression and self-loathing. Or maybe it's just another upsetting event to add to the growing list that makes up my life.

And then it hits me. A clear thought occurs amidst the jumbled mess swirling in my mind. Why do I care? We all die eventually so why does it matter if I made some bad mistakes? Everyone will be forgotten eventually no matter how great they were or what they did for humanity, so why does it matter if I alienate everyone that knows me? I don't need to be remembered or live a life that others will admire. In the end there is only death, nothingness, and infinity. We've all been racing towards it since the moment we were born. There must be some kind of survival instinct that pushes people to continue existing and making the world a better place for the next generation. To keep looking for answers and evolving. I think mine must've gotten turned off somehow.

In the face of such realizations a degrading night with the cops seems like a minor affair. A huge weight has been lifted off my chest but I barely feel it as I am now numb to everything. I can't believe how good it feels to not feel. I find myself staring in the mirror not recognizing the pathetic young woman looking back at me. I watch her lips move as she whispers "it doesn't matter" over and over again. I smile at my reflection and think just a little bit longer, just a little bit. Soon this life will be over.