story
This Friday was a blast, literally. We were at the annual fireworks competition in Helsinki to, you know... watch the fireworks.. and it was fun.
A Little Story: -The next day I woke up and felt like shit. I thought that something had really died in my mouth and I had a horrible urge to get up and empty half of the toothpaste tube into my mouth. I crawled to the bathroom and took a look at the reflection: bed-head hair (a.k.a. birds nest), very lovely bags under my eyes, dead pale face. I crawled back to my room and tried to find decent looking clothes for myself. I didn't find my baggy trousers, so I gave up and ripped the sheet from my bed and wrapped it around me (I looked like a ghost). I started my agonizingly slow crusade to my next destination: The Fridge.
I was weirded out: I was really hungry and waited eating impatiently. Normally, when hung over, I can't even stand the look/smell of food. But this morning, I was dying for it. Guh. I passed the living room and eyes followed me, blaming, making me feel guilty (Step-Dad). I almost tripped over the carpet as I tried to smile. Making my every nerve focus on my walking, trying hard not to fall, I reached my destination. Mom was busy doing something in the kitchen. Mmm, a cake. Oh right, today relatives would be coming to visit me and wish me happy birthday... Wait, what?
I totally forgot. Shit.
A Little Story: -The next day I woke up and felt like shit. I thought that something had really died in my mouth and I had a horrible urge to get up and empty half of the toothpaste tube into my mouth. I crawled to the bathroom and took a look at the reflection: bed-head hair (a.k.a. birds nest), very lovely bags under my eyes, dead pale face. I crawled back to my room and tried to find decent looking clothes for myself. I didn't find my baggy trousers, so I gave up and ripped the sheet from my bed and wrapped it around me (I looked like a ghost). I started my agonizingly slow crusade to my next destination: The Fridge.
I was weirded out: I was really hungry and waited eating impatiently. Normally, when hung over, I can't even stand the look/smell of food. But this morning, I was dying for it. Guh. I passed the living room and eyes followed me, blaming, making me feel guilty (Step-Dad). I almost tripped over the carpet as I tried to smile. Making my every nerve focus on my walking, trying hard not to fall, I reached my destination. Mom was busy doing something in the kitchen. Mmm, a cake. Oh right, today relatives would be coming to visit me and wish me happy birthday... Wait, what?
I totally forgot. Shit.