Unbearably Alone, At Last

I just asked the barista what time it was. It's 6:24am, and out of the handful of Starbucks coffee shops they redundantly build in Eastlake, I'm at the newest one which is located across the street from the last house I called Home.
It's 6:25 in the morning and I'm at Starbucks. I'm not buying a caffinated drink to jump start my morning before I go to school. I'm not killing time before I have to show up for work. I'm not even here to have some productive alone time in the relaxing Starbucks atmosphere. In fact, I've been here since 5:30 in the morning, hoping Simon's parents have left for work because my sanity and warmth are relying on their departure.
I'm waiting for Simon because whenever I choose not to go home, there is a point in the night or morning where I have to wait, either for Simon or another friend or some trolley or bus.
When you're younger, an adventurous, all-night outting is something you would love to reminisce and brag about the next day. You could impose that, if I was still young and immature, I'd have so many stories, filled with naive excitement and a proud feeling of mature superiority, to boast about the next day, it would take an entire day to narrate them.
To be honest, an all-night outting isn't adventurous at all, well not anymore at least. The adventurous aspect dwindles down after the fifth or sixth outting, and once the waiting periods begin, the adventurous adrenaline is pretty much diminished. In fact, I never really want all night, outtings anymore. This is because the waiting periods, really, only start when situations become so redundant, you start to wonder why you're even sitting in the cold, alone, waiting. This feeling of emptiness that replaces the adventurous drive, becomes the factor that causes you to ponder as to what is really worth this lonliness. And because this situation has become routine, there is nothing else you can entertain yourself with but these emotional thoughts of the worthless reality you actually are living in.
Like I said, I never really ask for these all-nighters anymore. I'm not even here for the sake of time conservation because this is where I planned on ending up tomorrow. I'm sitting outside Starbucks, cold as fuck, without a grande black Tea in a venti cup w/ 10 pumps of classic and no water, writing down all these insecurities I have been secretly keeping from myself and everyone else, in a chicken scratch handwriting I can't even recognize as my own which is the result of being tweaked out, because I have lost grasp of anything and everything that can prevent this repetitive situation.
Because of my impulsive spontanuiety, irresponsibility, and inconsideration of anything worth considering, I am cell phone-less, car-less, money-less, and good company-less.
I could have said the kickback at Lani's ran past the trolley hours or that I had no money to compensate for the gas to take me home. I could have argued that if I had a phone, or even pathetically, some fucking change for a pay phone, I'd be able to find an alternate destination. I could have even blamed JCR for not being there anymore, depriving me of that last resort, bed I could have easily snuck into.
But no, all this lonely waiting and low body temperature is all my doing. Indeed, I dread this habitual situation every time I choose to go out with my friends, but the worrying is usually drowned out by intoxication or that feeling of needing to be there to rule out that possibility of tainting my stability in the downe scene (I'll explain that inessential significance later).
And the saddest part is, I'm not surprised I'm in this fucking situation, yet again. I'm not surprised that I'm cold, and high, and anxiously waiting.

I'm not surprised I'm alone.

A Somewhat Introduction

I'm going to try and make this as short as possible because appetizers aren't supposed to spoil the main course. Okay, to be honest, that analogy is irrelevent because if this was a real "appetizers" to the "main course," it would consist of some sort of intriguing sample as to what is in store in the main course. I, however, fail to include any type of sample in this somewhat introduction.

The following statements are the only things remotely close to any fucking sample.

I haven't blogged for quite sometime, mainly because I've actually been "experiencing" this life I have put myself into. I could have said that I've been actually "living" life, but I haven't really been living, just experiencing.

I just finished the book Tweak by Nic Sheff, which I have been identifying as my personal attempt towards rehabilitation.

I'm going to blog, periodically, because I need to put my mind, chalk full of potential, into good use. In doing so, I hope to compile a book.

Hopefully, this book, will be my ultimate rehabilitation. Maybe I can even become famous and inspire some other lost kid into creating a memoir.

But if anything else, at least I'll have some written evidence that there was some admirable creativity and sanity in me that, potentially, led to my overcoming of this

mother fucking, chronically lasting, self-finding, annoyingly fullfilling experience
I still continue to label as my All-Time Low.

PS I'm not quite done experiencing yet. But, as quoted from the movie Mr. and Mrs. Smith, "I guess towards the end, you start to think about the beginning."