I need direction to perfection

How does everything change in like... 30 seconds? I get to the party and I feel great. I drink my weight in beer, feeling only vaguely buzzed, get a ride home with Alex, life is good, life is good, life is good, happy 25th Scotty. Then I go home and go to the bathroom and when I come out of the bathroom my mom is standing right outside the door and scares the SHIT out of me. Cut to me waking up the next morning wearing a sweatshirt and underwear.

I guess I blacked out and threw up. How does that even happen AFTER someone leaves the party? What the fuck.

My mom... vaguely annoyed. Apparently I'm her stupid child. I prefer scrappy. I prefer to be her SCRAPPY child. Oh well.

I had tea with an old friend this morning, made me feel old too. She's 26 years old, a yoga instructor and a special ed aide. She doesn't really drink anymore and is going back to school to do alternative medicine. She's kind of new age now. I don't know. It's like that line in my favourite Killers song, "All These Things That I've Done." I fucking love that song. I'm so much older than I can take. I know I'm only 19, no big deal, but I don't know if I ever expected to be this old. I think I thought I was gonna be a kid forever. Looking at my friends I realize that most people act the same way in their late 20s as they did when they were 19, but they're old, too. Not old-old, like elderly, but old like a fully-grown person with jobs and life and problems and probably depression and shit like that. We're all fucking depressed. But everyone has always been like this, they just didn't have a name for it before we standardized psychology.

I told my mom I am going to kill myself when I start to feel frail. I want to help people for a living, but I never want to need help myself. Maybe it's a weakness of mine, but either way, I am like a quarter or so through with my life and I am not sure what I have to show for it. Where did middle school go? Where did high school go? Where did my fucking first year of college go? I feel like I'm losing track of things. Remembering years does not take years. I feel like memories can never represent what things actually were - in that case, why bother trying to remember? I don't know. What happens to your life if you're too busy trying to remember your life? I guess you stop having one.

My mom and I are going to see Slumdog Millionaire. I think that should be fun. Supposedly it's like taking a handful of uppers.