Light’s  on. Makeup smudged across my face. The bathroom mirror reflects back the night’s adventure. My mind goes back and forth between a “What the fuck are you doing with your life” and a “We had so much fun,” speech.

What am I doing? I’m getting glitter painted onto my cheeks at 1:00 A.M while chugging margaritas in a can.

Is this the person my future self will thank me for?


I don’t really care too much either way.

It was one night. Of many nights. Where I’ll look up at the stars while holding you and be thankful as fuck to be alive.

Some days I’m excited by it all.

Other days… not so much.

Eyes open. Here we are. Eating less than average Mexican breakfast.

And I’m okay with it. I guess.