[blog/email] Four days.
[Fail-Locked to everyone. Cmon, Luce can't work a computer.]
It's been four days since my brilliant idea of a party to try and make more girl-friends. I still can't believe what happened. My parents are still questioning stains from alcohol that reek and I've actually called off work. Twice.
I just can't do it, I can't face going outside. I still feel just... humiliated. If waking up with that disgusting headache wasn't enough, what I did that night (fuck. well what I was told I did...) just won't... go away. There's so much that I've messed up. I've made a fool out of myself and can't help but to think that it's my fault for actually believing Erin that that stupid drink was like rootbeer.
Irish Creme. Is definately. Not. Rootbeer.
It doesn't help that the few people I have been talking to have their own problems. I mean... Dewi doesn't count because that's- Shit that's just my fault. I can't believe... I think I'm going to have to drop the few classes I was thinking about taking. It would just be too... hard. And awkward. It looks like Glee club is a no too. I probably shouldn't do the roof-top concert... Damnit... Times like these I just really... really want to go back to Seychelles.
But Alfred... I'm still not quite sure why he got his nose broken, but he really didn't help much with his self-pity party... Though that must hurt... Maybe I should check to see if he's alright though...
For now though... I think I'm just going to stay in my room for the rest of the week. I've got enough movies here to last me and enough leftover food from the party...
I'll just be in my room singing Cell Block Tango. That sounds good. Very good.
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[email]
To: Alfred
From: Lucy
Sent: August 2, 10:23
Subject: You're nose, you goof.
Hey. I just wanted to make sure you're alright. Sorry for getting so... upset. I hope you're feeling better Al.