It's been two hours. Two hours, twelve minutes and thirty five seconds, but it's not like I'm counting. I'm definitely counting. I've spent most of the night so far tucked away on a couch, hanging out with the one guy that is seeming to make this night vaguely tolerable. Vodka really is a great guy, I should start spending more time with him again. The house is filled with party lights, incense burning and dim lanterns hung from the ceiling, the atmosphere is actually really aesthetically pleasing - just a shame that there's people here. Frankie has tried prying me off the couch, urging me to come socialise and meet new people, but I'm sorry unless you've got four legs and fur I'm really not interested. I was happy to see how much Alex loved his present though, I commissioned a portrait of he and Frankie from one of their favourite artists and I'd saved for months to get that done for him. The part where he got all misty eyed and pulled me into a hug was where my limit was though, affection and emotions just aren't my thing any more, I can really only show them around Gizmo but sometimes I slip up around Frankie. I'm still am really glad I was able to do something nice for Alex's birthday though, and the look on his face when he saw me walk through the door, cheering over the fact Frankie managed to drag me here. I was technically kidnapped and forced against my will, but at least it made him happy so I guess it's not all bad. The music in the house is vibrating and thumping in the air, and at least the music taste Frankie and Alex have makes the night better. Music is probably the only other thing that I can enjoy these days, that let's me feel anything at all, aside from the vacant hollowness that only gets engulfed with skin crawling pain when I can't manage to push it down any more. They seem to be stuck in a time warp with music like I am, I'm like Marty Mcfly stuck in a Delorean back in time and I really think I was just born in the wrong era. I watch the crowd of people in the house getting lost in their drinking and enjoying social interactions with each other, dancing, laughing and enjoying their life. What a foreign concept. My eyes catch another set of eyes across the room, a man standing with his friends and he smiles and waves at me, and my stomach drops. Oh please don't come over. This is my cue to leave. I give a smile polite smile back and push off the couch, making a beeline for the staircase to find a bathroom, empty room, anything. I just need to hide for a few minutes and work out an excuse I can give Frankie to go home, I made an appearance, I came, I saw and I have been breaking my neck to get back home the entire time. I shuffle past the people on the staircase, that are apparently trying to make a baby at a house party, keeping my eyes on the ground and stepping over the random red cups littered there - Alex is going to be so pissed, he hates mess. But I already know, Frankie organised cleaners to come first thing in the morning as part of his birthday present. They're so grossly perfect for each other. When I reach the top of the stairs, I press my hand to my chest, letting out a relieved sigh. Thank god I didn't trip and fall onto anyone while they're in the process of getting pregnant on a staircase. I push my fingers into the front of my hair, messing it about and pushing it away from my face and glance up the hallway trying to decide which room to go into. I look to the second door on the left, which is a room I'm familiar with. It's the room Frankie carried me into the night I gave him a backstreet boys concert on his coffee table before I slipped on my ass, and fell off the table like a sack of shit - still singing loudly once I hit the ground. I feel like I've had a sensory overload tonight, my brain isn't coping with it, there's just too much going on and I'm way out of my comfort zone again. I appreciate that Frankie just wants to help me, I know it must be hard watching someone you care about wander around as a shell of a person, waiting for it all to be over but life just isn't cut out for some people. Life isn't fair, and sometimes people just get handed a deck in life that's unlucky, there's no rhyme or reason for it, sometimes life isn't kind to matter how kind of a person you are. I just have to accept I'm one of those people. You know, the thing people don't tell you with depression is that most people think its like being locked in a dark room, unable to see things for what they are. But really it feels like the curtains have been pulled back from your eyes, you see things clearly, from the perspective of what your brain has been trying to lie to you about what reality really is, that you can see for the first time that the futile hope you had that things get better is a whimsical nonsense dream. I guess the other thing they don't tell you is that everyone thinks having depression means you're sad, that it's the opposite of happiness. Not that I even remember or think I know what happiness truly feels like. I wish I could feel sad, I wish I could feel much of anything these days aside from the glimpse of pain I get when it rears its ugly head, the black fog in your head suffocates your ability to feel at all, it's just emptiness. The opposite of depression isn't happiness - it's vitality, the ability to enjoy being alive at all. I really need to find something to write in my journal today, I haven't found anything to write down yet and that's never a good sign. I need to find my reason for today, and I need to find it soon. I try to push my usual hopeless nagging thoughts away, and walk to the door, grabbing the handle and swinging it open. When I step inside the doorway and look into the room however, I've never wished my eyesight was ripped from me more in my entire life. I've never wished the ground would open up and swallow me to the pits of hell more in my entire life, and for me that's saying something. I stand frozen, the image of the man leant with his back against the wall in front of me, with the head of long blonde hair in front of his crotch doing something very unmistakable paralysing my whole body. I'm really wishing I slipped and fell down those stairs now. The woman kneeling doesn't seem to notice my entrance, she is busy I guess - but he has. His drunk lidded captivating eyes are locked on mine, and my stomach flies into my throat when a slow smirk pulls on his cherry carved lips and he moves one hand to the back of the girls head and threads his fingers into the girls hair. Who the actual fuck does that in this situation! I barely have time to take in his appearance or facial features, all I can briefly take in aside from those eyes that are holding me in place, is a long mess of brunette curls draped over his broad shoulders, and a white low cut t-shirt. Is the universe just fucking with me at this point?