This morning, I look pale. With a dry choked mouth and a face puffed like a tiny hot air balloon, I look like I am a survivor, of a crazy bar fight. My shirt is torn from the pocket, my lips are chapped and it hurts when I breathe. I am a mess, not the usual mess, but the kind of mess that has gone miles past the benchmark of messness (if that’s a word).
Last night, I was not this person, or so I can recall. I made the party come alive, the moment I walked through Stacy’s doors. I turned every head in the room like I was Tara Reid dressed in a bikini. Don’t get me wrong, I dress fine and I am a guy. I have a sense of humor and I am open to things. New things, old things, wild things. I am open to ideas, I am open to fun and I am open to life and its wild experiences.
So I obviously gulped wine, beer, scotch, cocktails, mocktails, shots, martinis, jagerbombs, and whatever the fuck I could grab with my loose hands and whatever did not taste like puke….Ohh wait a minute! I think I tasted puke too, my own puke or was it Stacy’s? I can’t tell. Not that my taste buds were dead, I just think I faintly remember all that happened. The events are registered like frames of a film,only distorted.
I think I was hungry too, to a point where I could eat a possum. You know how weed works! One time I even ate raw Maggie stuffed between brown wheat breads. The worst part was, that I had broken in to my neighbour’s kitchen. Then I had to run away from there and their 5 year old kids threw stones at me, as I showed my back. One would argue, I was "stoned", quite literally.
So anyway, Stacy had named the party “Come Puke in my garden”, and I wish I was kidding about the name. So not so surprisingly, I was the first one to successfully justify the name and probably the last one to walk away or maybe swim through the great river of pukes and valleys of female-high-ankle-boots and men-jordans.
But today I feel sick, it’s not a hangover. I have had hangovers before, terrible ones at that, but it’ s something different, something I don’t know how to express, I feel so bad within that I feel I have no soul. Maybe that’s exaggerated but you get the drift? Don’t you.
I just heard a knock, not on the door, I think it’s inside my head. The mirror I was looking at, seems to have disappeared.
I can hear myself breathe. It’s so loud and disturbing, my eardrums ache.
I think I am dragged to the wall, something pokes my ribs, I must be dreaming.
What is this smell? Did someone piss here? Must have been the purple hair dude from last night.
What is that noise? I hear someone whisper. I just hope there's no tiger in my bathroom.
Did I just touch another skin? That's surprising because, I live alone and don't crash at parties.
It’s still dark and noisy in the other room, maybe the party isn’t over yet.
I can’t really tell...