Another week.

Many would think I don’t indulge enough vices, particularly for a person my age.

I rarely imbibe. I can count the number of times I’ve smoked cigarettes or hookah with my fingers and toes. I have only tried marijuana once, and only as an edible. I try to avoid bitching and moaning about anything because I feel it is pointless, and frankly, very immature (I always feel horrendously guilty whenever I do). There are other, less damaging, methods of catharsis.

I constantly check my own impulses because I value discipline. This is one of my best foibles. I am cautious to a fault.
Truth be told, it’s tiring being the responsible one, yet I am too wary of the consequences if I ever decide to let go.
Dang, when did I grow up?

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