stripped to sentiment

Anonymous

The first party I am terrified. I can’t even get on the bus without something in my system. Three mixed drinks later, the vodka has provided enough liquid courage and I cautiously step aboard. I’m starting to flashback but I tell everyone I’m fine. Besides, it’s important to my roommate and her boyfriend that we’re all there. It’s important to me that I feel normal. The dorm is big; his roommate’s ego is bigger. Some obnoxious banter and too much whiskey, beer, and vodka later, I have to puke. I borrow some girl’s mouthwash and pretend it never happened. I bring home my roommate’s boyfriend’s friend who might be gay. The sex is terrible and I feel like shit afterwards. Normal actions don’t feel normal anymore. I flashback all week and relapse.

The second party is at my place. The boy I like cancels last minute. I down two drinks of absinthe, four shots of vodka, two beers, and another vodka mix. The room starts spinning and I know I am completely fucked. Ten minutes later my head is in the toilet bowl. The room is upside down; my makeup is running down my face. I am a mess. I don’t remember what happened but I wake up in my own bed – party clothes and all – with a massive hangover. We all joke about my inebriation. I pretend most of it didn’t happen but drunken texts provide all the hard evidence.

The third party is at my place, again. I am in control. I hide my hands so no one can see the other ways I’ve been self-destructing. No one notices, but I am cautious anyway. I lose track of the amount of vodka but I remember how many beers. I spill one on the carpet, again. I pretend it doesn’t happen, because I know I’ll never live it down. This time, the boy came. I walk him to the bus stop and he almost kisses me but hesitates and leaves. I hide my disappointment and send an embarrassing slew of texts to people I shouldn’t have, confessing things I shouldn’t have. It doesn’t matter though. It’s all a bunch of late night incoherent rambles. Lying on my friends’ floor, the room is spinning, but I don’t puke. I don’t sleep either.

There is no fourth party. I have to come back to reality and stop pretending things didn’t happen.