Always the first one on the dance floor, the last one standing when the sun came up, the girl who could drink anyone under the table and still be ready to do it all over again the next night.
My husband and I arrived at the festival with a bag of pills, a tent that would be our home for the next four days, and a plan to go as hard as we could.
The answer hit me like a freight train at a four-day music festival, where I finally learned that there's a fine line between having the time of your life and losing complete control of it.
Every time I thought about it, it'd make me feel sick to my stomach] I wasn't just partying - I was making memories, living my best life.
Fragments of the night before started to surface - flashes of me in someone else's tent, the weight of an unfamiliar body, a drunken haze swallowing my better judgment whole.
