One night me and two of my mates were walking home from a house party at around 3am. I'd say I was tipsy rather than drunk, I mean I'd probably slur words like 'contradiction' slightly but nothing more than that. As me and my mates went our separate ways, I suddenly realised that I didn't want to go home. So I walked up my road just to fool 'em that I was going home, then stopped when I was out of their sight. I turned back and stood at the top of the main road and discreetly watched them walking into their respective houses. The reason I was waiting for them to get home is 'cause I had an incredible urge to just carry on walking down this main road, totally out of the way of my house. So I did. I sort've hid my head in my jacket as I walked past my mates houses incase they looked out the window and wondered what the FUCK I was doing walking down that way, 'cause I'd literally have no excuse what so ever for doing so. Once I was past their houses it was plain sailing, I just carried on walking. I had butterflies in my stomach, I found it incredibly exciting for some reason. In my head I was going to just keep walking forever. I walked about five miles, down the side of a dual carriageway, lowering my head to the wet grass on the odd occasion that a lone car drove past. I ended up next to a shopping precinct which was eerie as fuck because it was so quiet, and just ended up sitting on a curb next to the road. Then I made my way back a different way, through this long wet grass that soaked my feet and I ended up getting home at about 7:30.

At the time I found it amazing, but everytime I think of it now, it freaks me out and makes me feel totally alone and uncomfortable.