Note to Self (94) Hangover

Flashes of light danced before my eyes. I let the crowd take me over and I drowned.

I woke up this morning and found a taxi receipt on the living room table. I poked my eyes thinking my contacts were still on because I somehow could see clear. I had slept barely five hours. My make up had drooled over my eyes. A disoriented raccoon, that’s what I had become.

An insane drunk little girl decided to let loose last night. And let loose she did.

My creativity has been damaged by the overdose of Jameson on the rocks. I feel drained. My thoughts mean nothing anymore. My head lives in a fog. My stomach wants to touch no food and I look at my cats, sleeping… They incite me to do the same.

Dreams. So many dreams. Glasses. Full then empty. Spilled liquor on the bar. Hands. Faces. Bodies. Strangers. Everywhere. A dark street. Opening doors. The bathroom. Toilet paper stuck to my shoe. Another drink. Eyes meet. I stare. I laugh. I forget. Everything.

I pay the price for transgressing the rules of sobriety. I never follow any rules. I sought to absorb life. Enjoy it. Discover a world full of fun. And danger.

I slapped the little girl on the cheek and I scolded her. Why did you drink so much? You lost control. You should always be in control.

She didn’t listen. She won’t ever listen. She does whatever she likes to do, because she’s free. Yes, she’ll nod to my reprimands and laugh at me behind my back. I know her so well. The little girl loves to be in charge. The little girl loves to make me forget. The little girl loves to run and hide in her favorite secret place.

She’ll come back. And punish me again with a hangover.

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