Just because I rock, doesn’t mean I’m made of stone

I am an adrenaline addict, and like all addicts, with each “rush” it takes a little more to feel the high. It started out fairly harmless – a few spontaneous road trips with friends, which led to a few spontaneous road trips by myself, which turned into me “taking a break” from college, which turned into me moving by myself half way across the country with a few suitcases , which turned into a little drug experimentation, which turned into sleeping with random men in public places, which turned into me sleeping with a man  who is engaged, which turned into me moving again across the country (North) with one suitcase, which has now turned into me seriously considering  a move to Buenos Aires, Argentina  with a couple of girls whom I have just recently met.

I am well aware of the fact that the path in which I have embarked more resembles a declining,  semi-paved, one-lane road that is about to turn  into a wooden bridge 1,000 ft. over a steep crevice with a small wooden sign at the end reading “Rest of bridge missing due to rotting wood”.

However, I shall not be deterred. Because, unfortunately these little “adventures” of mine (dangerous to my health as they may be), provide the only glimmer of euphoria that I experience in this dull black void in which is my life. And so, the question becomes; will I move to a foreign country where I don’t speak the language or know the culture?

Yeah, probably – I’m already getting a little giddy just thinking about it.

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