(no subject)
I tipped my head back and let the warmth consume my throat. I knew when I felt it hit my stomach that the feeling would start. my tongue would go numb, allowing me to inebriate myself further with other less appealing liquids. Soon I'd have that moment of clarity like every other time. I'd gain that drunken common sense that leads to life changing thoughts in the morning. In a stupor, I'd realize I really wanted to be a teacher, or a psychologist, or a stripper. Who knows? Maybe I wanted to move to Spain or Egypt or Monte Carlo. Maybe I'd drive a Monte Carlo to Venezuela. Maybe I'd find a nice Columbian cokelord to leech on to and be his little love pet. Or maybe I'd just have another shot of Jager before my mind ventured to even more offbeat territory. That smooth warmth...it always brings me back to home base. It brings me to the chunky putrid vomit on the rug, the half full bottle of curdled milk hidden under the couch, and the sweet-smelling sheets on my bed. The clarity I long for on my fluid high isn't so clear in the morning when I'm picking up the pieces of the previous night's antics. I hoped that one day I'd retain that window-like feeling, like I knew what I wanted and who I was, like I could see inside myself...but hope is as useful as the liquid delusions I indulge in every weekend.
-Shan
-Shan