So we drank… a lot. It happens sometimes. The thing I hate about drinking is that I love it. I love drinking but can never get drunk enough or high enough to get the full experience. Believe it or not, I am 23 years old and haven’t blacked out since I was 18, haven’t thrown up in a year (and even that I did to myself to sober up quick when one person in our party busted their head open), and I sure as hell haven’t had a hangover in years.
All of these drink-related-by-experiences are unpleasant. I know that and do not need to be told as such. And yet I cant help but feel like, that one time when I blacked out on my 18th birthday, whatever shenanigans I may have gotten up to, all the stupidly embarrassing things I may have done that my friends recounted to me later, I was not responsible. I was not in control! I had a blast apparently and didn’t want to go home but from then on, I get drunk sure, I am not superwoman. But I REMEMBER!
So there I am doing stupid shit that seems like an excellent idea, having to replay the whole night the next day in HD clarity and wanting to die.