Musings from the Bridge
I wanted to keep my eyes closed today.
When I woke up this morning (afternoon) I was wondering why my head kept going around. Due to the stupid logic one picks up when her head won't stop spinning, I thought maybe I could make it stop if I turned the other way. Back and forth I went and yet it was still moving. I had no painkillers left, and I knew if I tried to get up it would only make it worse, but I had to. I had work to do. After opening my eyes and shutting them again a few times in a futile attempt to stop the spinning room I climbed out of bed and got some Powerade. Good hangover cure.
I never figured myself as the type who would wake up with a hangover. I always considered myself far too righteous for that kind of thing. Why would I need to drink to the point where I'm going to be sick in the morning? I have better things to do with my time! Apparently not anymore.
I've never drank to the point where I couldn't remember a full night out, and while this is a blessing it is also a curse in oh so many ways. The worst I've gotten is where I can only remember bits and pieces, and that gets to be so damned confusing. That's how I was today. Lying in my bed amid the spinning I caught a few glimpses of things that happened last night. I was at the QM, but then I was somewhere unfamiliar, then on a bus bench, then trying to walk up a hill and failing miserably but there was someone there holding me up...
It became slightly more clear at about the point where I got to the bridge outside my student village and everything kept getting smaller and I collapsed. Then there was someone saying my name over and over but it sounded like broken bits of nothing and I was scared that something was coming to get me. I remember Georgia being there and she hugged me and said that something had happened at the party upstairs involving knives and some huge fight. I was back in my room all of the sudden and somehow on the phone with somebody, and so many things I never would have had the guts to say while sober were spilling out my mouth.
My ingrained Catholic guilt complex has forced me to feel incredibly horrible for this now that it's all over but I remember saying I hated God. He was an asshole, He was mocking me, it wasn't fair. Ceri was in here for a bit, but then everything started going cold and I wanted to sleep, I needed to sleep, this would all go away if I went to sleep...
And yet, even after all of that I'm still drinking Bacardi Breezer alone in my room. Silly, foolish girl.
The thing that baffles me is, how the hell did I get here? Since when am I the kind of person that would do this to myself? I'd thought myself wiser than this. Perhaps I gave myself too much credit.
Wouldn't it be awesome if I could just take Equilibrium and not feel anything until I'd sorted myself out? That would be great, k thx byeee.
I get the feeling I'm going to go on some nutty hugging spree when I get home. Because...this fuzzy ewok toy...really isn't good for crap.
When I woke up this morning (afternoon) I was wondering why my head kept going around. Due to the stupid logic one picks up when her head won't stop spinning, I thought maybe I could make it stop if I turned the other way. Back and forth I went and yet it was still moving. I had no painkillers left, and I knew if I tried to get up it would only make it worse, but I had to. I had work to do. After opening my eyes and shutting them again a few times in a futile attempt to stop the spinning room I climbed out of bed and got some Powerade. Good hangover cure.
I never figured myself as the type who would wake up with a hangover. I always considered myself far too righteous for that kind of thing. Why would I need to drink to the point where I'm going to be sick in the morning? I have better things to do with my time! Apparently not anymore.
I've never drank to the point where I couldn't remember a full night out, and while this is a blessing it is also a curse in oh so many ways. The worst I've gotten is where I can only remember bits and pieces, and that gets to be so damned confusing. That's how I was today. Lying in my bed amid the spinning I caught a few glimpses of things that happened last night. I was at the QM, but then I was somewhere unfamiliar, then on a bus bench, then trying to walk up a hill and failing miserably but there was someone there holding me up...
It became slightly more clear at about the point where I got to the bridge outside my student village and everything kept getting smaller and I collapsed. Then there was someone saying my name over and over but it sounded like broken bits of nothing and I was scared that something was coming to get me. I remember Georgia being there and she hugged me and said that something had happened at the party upstairs involving knives and some huge fight. I was back in my room all of the sudden and somehow on the phone with somebody, and so many things I never would have had the guts to say while sober were spilling out my mouth.
My ingrained Catholic guilt complex has forced me to feel incredibly horrible for this now that it's all over but I remember saying I hated God. He was an asshole, He was mocking me, it wasn't fair. Ceri was in here for a bit, but then everything started going cold and I wanted to sleep, I needed to sleep, this would all go away if I went to sleep...
And yet, even after all of that I'm still drinking Bacardi Breezer alone in my room. Silly, foolish girl.
The thing that baffles me is, how the hell did I get here? Since when am I the kind of person that would do this to myself? I'd thought myself wiser than this. Perhaps I gave myself too much credit.
Wouldn't it be awesome if I could just take Equilibrium and not feel anything until I'd sorted myself out? That would be great, k thx byeee.
I get the feeling I'm going to go on some nutty hugging spree when I get home. Because...this fuzzy ewok toy...really isn't good for crap.