do right

my eyes are puffy but I have not been crying, and last night is a blur of murky whiskey scenes, from bar to bed. my decisions are in question, but I feel too delicate to dissect them. familiarity is both a comfort and a burden, and the walk home was with leaden feet and a head full of bad habits. I perpetually surround myself with friends and roommates and potential lovers, and I still feel solitary. I can't say that I am sorry to anyone for what I've done.