It was a long week filled with assignments. By the time the weekend rolled around, I was chomping at the bit to get out and get amongst it. Having Saturday off was probably a bad thing. Things turned bad anyways. Extreme drunkenness ensued although we had only the best of intentions. I had only the best of intentions.
God, I hate that feeling when you wake up and have no idea how you got home. Yes, sometimes it comes back to you but what comes back is rarely pleasant. Rarely something to be proud of. I still have black spots and it scares me. I wonder what I’m capable of in those moments when I’m there but not there. The only comfort is that we were both just as drunk but still… is no one an adult here? Can neither of us keep our promise to do better?
Or am I being too hard on us? On me? We’re allowed to make mistakes. The main thing is to learn from them. Ok so what have I learnt? That shots are a bad idea. Ok, genius, I knew that. That my will is weak. That I get caught up in the excitement and I am only small; I can’t drink as much as I seem to think I can. That I don’t want to be hungover anymore. Until next weekend.
Something always comes along that warrants it, seemingly. And yes, I felt like crap the next day but my brain hurts more than my body. The self disappointment is crippling. The shame. The if, if, ifs. If I had a time machine, things could be so different. But we have to live with the decisions we make. There are consequences to everything and life is long. So very long.
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