So it begins. My night out. I'd much rather be at home, sober, snuggled up in someone's arms watching Netflix. In that scenario though, I would be alone. Alone. It's a powerful word, but the word "single" just doesn't seem to be as impactful.
So, I've always joked that I was cold-hearted, but it wasn't until a few days ago at work that I really started to think about it.
I keep finding myself at a crossroad. I'm at a critical point in my life where I need to figure out what's most important to me: finding the love of my life or pursue a career doing what I love, which is writing.
Being as I'm an observer throughout this whole situation that involves my roommate, his friend of six years, my roommate's ex, and I guess me to an extent, I'll try to keep a subjective opinion as possible until the end and explain the facts, at least the facts that I know, starting from the beginning.