I'm so over people's idea of Friday night fun. See who they can get physical with first out of many different members of the opposite sex. I don't like flirting. I'm bad at it and I'm not interested in it. But yet I still enter these situations and my very being feels dirty while there. I don't want to be surrounded by strangers in a crowed room while under the influence anymore. I just can't find joy there. Only anxiety and a less dramatic, but still very real, form of misery.
I've realized that the only thing that has brought me true happiness lately is my art. That tells me something wonderful, but also makes me worry that artists are doomed with a true, but sometimes hidden, sadness in their realities forever. All I ever want to do is to crawl away into my brain and nap in my imagination all day, every day. It's comfortable and familiar but then it still can surprise me with results that swells my body with a pride that makes me humble.