mood: miserable

I rarely blog about my feelings. I blog often about events or my thoughts and ideas, but rarely do I write about my own feelings. The purpose of this post isn't to gain pity or sympathy or whatever, in fact I want none of those things. The only purpose of this post is to put my feelings into words, because I find I express myself best and come to an enlightened state of understanding concerning my own feelings and thoughts when I put them to words. But not only that, I have to write as though I'm explaining it to someone, because ultimately I am, to myself. If I write as though no one else were going to read it, I might as well stick to just my thoughts because it comes out just as disorganized and muddled as it is in my head, but when I explain things to people whether in person or in writing, I feel a sense of clarity come over me that often leaves even me surprised due to the resulting insight. Thus is the preliminary to this post.

Last night I made possibly the biggest mistake I've made in a long time. As with all mistakes, full recognition of the consequences and impact of the decision didn't come until later, or today. I brought and consumed alcohol in my brother and sister-in-law's house. And not only that, I let it get out of hand enough that William, who I was drinking with, ended up getting sick over it and had to stay the night instead of driving home. When I got home from school today Kisty brought it up. Honestly she didn't need to say anything beyond "I know what happened last night and I'm disappointed" for me to realize in full what kind of decision it was. Not that she said much more beyond that anyways, for all her attitude and spunk she's awful non-confrontational and actually apologized to me a few times while discussing it, which I was quick to disallow. At the moment, I just feel miserable. She said it perfectly right when she asked "What were you thinking? I thought you knew better." and really I don't have an answer to it, and I should have known better. They've allowed me to be a guest in their house, a house they try very hard to maintain a certain degree of civil and religious standards in, and last night I knowingly acted against those standards. There's no excuse for it, I know that. Regardless of whose idea it was, or who (between William and I) was the one acting more irresponsibly, it all comes down on me
, and really it should. I just....I feel terrible, like there's this heavy blanket of guilt thats suffocating me. I feel like I need to get out of this house...as though the house itself is disappointed.
Eddie is out of town on a high adventure trip, and of course he needs to know what happened. Kisty was nice enough to allow me to explain it to him first. I have no intention of down playing it, or omitting details, least of all lying about anything. Personally I wouldn't be surprised if they asked me to move out, but if this guilt persists I may end up preempting that decision and moving out myself. I don't feel bad for the drinking, or even for allowing William to drink himself sick, those are things I'm okay with. It's all about location, location, location. It takes a long time to build trust with people and in one night I've shattered months of established trust, probably more. I think the worst part about it is how painfully obvious it is to me now how bad of a decision it was and that it didn't even really occur to me last night. I feel toxic...as though I've been infected with a disease I know I can't get rid of...