Fucking up has never felt so good.

If I was to look at my life from an outside perspective i'd be worried. My life is fairly going downhill fast.

I'm doing shit in college. Missing lectures. Falling behind and I even missed a mandatory lab today. If I miss two more I'll be failed automatically.

Lying to friends and family about my where I am and what i'm doing.

Spending way too much money.

Taking drugs every weekend, sometimes twice. And now even on weeknights.

I've lost so much weight in the last month it's crazy. I've lost my appetite. I physically can't eat some days.

But I love it. I'm having so much fun. Every day I tell myself I'll go home early and get a good nights sleep but then I end up fucking around till 10 or 11 at night smoking and just having a laugh with my friends.
I keep forgetting to text my other friends. They think I'm trying to shut them out but I'm not doing any of this on purpose. My Dad keeps asking me where I'm getting food from, how I can afford to eat out every day, where I'm sleeping the nights I stay out. How I'm keeping up with my colege work and god forbid he finds out I lied about where I really was and I get caught out.
He's going away next week and I know I'll probably never come home. It's going to be so hard to make my lectures without him here to wake me up. I'm having enough trouble sleeping at a reasonable hour, It'll only get worse now he won't be here to make me go to bed.

But I don't know where to start fixing things. I lied to a friend yesterday and got fairly caught up in a load of lies after she rang my house looking for me when I said I was at home and I really wasn't. She's going to kill me when she sees me tomorrow, I don't even know what I'll tell her.

I lied because I got offered a good night and free drugs.
I know I'm getting into a lot of unneeded shit but fuck me it's just what I needed.

Here's what happens. I wake up and I think about  how good the day could be. I think of all the things I could get done and then I get up and start to do them. Then I ring Kevin and we end up meeting up. Then we find out someone has a free house and we make a few phone calls and before I know it we're in some house, with a load of drugs and my plans for the day are a distant memory. We take the drugs and I get to talk. They make me talk like I've really needed to for so long. I've gotten so much off my chest these past few weeks that I know once I stop this madness I'll be better off because all my pent up issues will have been released and shared. Or will I?

At the start I said I'd only do them every so often. But then opportunities to go out and get fucked kept coming up. Then I said no more than once a week on the weekends. I took pills last friday and saturday and did lines last night. That's 3 times and the week isn't even over yet.

I know I'm fucking up but boy am I having fun doing it.

Xx