on headaches

The sunrise ain't pretty when you ain't been to bed, tomorrow is today instead. And I know where you wanna go, the devil has crawled inside your nose. I've run with you as far as I can go, completely out of control.- Bobby Bare Jr (The Terrible Sunrise)
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I'm sitting in a chair, my legs dangling over the side, my feet touching the seat of the chair next to me. I'm singing along to a bad Michael Jackson song while all around me people dance, fight, and fall around. I stop singing along, to take in the moment.

How did I get here?

Is it bad when you start the night with a headache?

Flash to earlier in the evening as I occupy that same seat, and you lean against the couch turned bed of the apartment we're spending the evening at.

It'll go away,

I tell you as I take a sip of my latest concoction.

Do you want me to make you a drink?

It seems like this is the logical solution at the time, and we make our way to the kitchen where we take back to back shots of watermelon flavored rum.

It burns my throat, and I immediately chase it with cran-apple juice to make the taste go away.

Why am I doing this?

It tastes so good, you shouldn't chase it.

Tastes good?

I want to argue, but I don't, and instead as if to prove a point, I take a swig straight from the bottle just as the girl in front of me has, and I try to ignore the burning sensation once again- resisting the urge to grab my cup of juice, I set the bottle back on the counter.

Not bad.

I take another shot, just to prove my point. Since when does drinking more mean anything?

And so here we are- I'm back in the seat, you're moving about, everyone's dancing and I should be having a grand old time, but really I can't help but wonder how I got here- how did I end up like this? I'm so unhappy with where I am and I have no idea how to change it. I want to stop drinking. I want to sober up, drive home to my bed, and call it a night. I have class at 9am and if I had a half a brain, I'd walk away now.

My headache is gone,

you're by my side, and I smile at you. No need to let everyone around me know the unhappy thoughts I'm having- i'll be ready to go soon enough.

You need another drink,

I want to argue, but I let you bring me my cup that I had strategically left in the other room. I go to take a drink, and only have a sip. It's 2am.... 7 hours.

I'm up on the table, dancing about with the girls, shaking my ass and doing what 20 year girls are supposed to do at a party....

get drunk and act belligerant?

Let's take a shot-

I agree and we go to the kitchen-

to drugs, sex, and rock n roll,

the five shot glasses clink and I down the shot in a single gulp.

So much for going home any time soon.

My head begins to hurt...

the headache is starting.

on this

What I want from this, is to learn to let go. No, not of you, of all that is old. Killers re-invent and believe, and it leans on me, like a rootless... So fuck you, fuck you, fuck you and all you didn't do.- Damien Rice (Rootless Tree)
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Why did you ask me if I would ever use you?

My mind whirls as I try to figure it out-

I don't remember saying that.

You said it earlier. You asked if I was using you, if I would ever use you.

I wish I could come up with a coherent response, but as I sit here sprawled on a couch with my head resting on your chest, the high volume of 151 in my system prevents it.

I don't know, I don't remember,

I lament.

Well I wouldn't,

you tell me. It's as if it makes a difference. Deep down I know this is nothing, a friendship highlighted when alcohol courses through our veins. But I smile back at you anyway, I drink in the moment and the shots of rum placed in my hand. It's almost too easy-

too easy to fall for you, too easy to let it lie in limbo, too easy to convince myself I'm okay with everything and how it's all playing out. I continue to sit with you, and wonder what this is.

You're far too good at breaking hearts,

and it looks like mine is next on the list.

on stars

And why do we drink? I guess we do it 'cause, And when I turned your station on You sounded more familiar than that party was, You more familiar than that party. It's the first time I stayed up all night, It's getting light I hear the birds, I'm driving home on empty streets, I think I put my shirt on backwards.- Dar Williams (Are You Out There)
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I'm supposed to tell you i'll be out front, if you need me.

I've swung the back patio door open to inform my friends of my new location at your request, and they all smile mischieviously at me in response.

No worries,

I respond.

He just wants to go lay out on the grass for awhile.

A chorus of "sures" and catcalls follow me as I close the sliding door and walk back to the living room. You stumble out of the bathroom, and smile at me as we walk outside to the front yard.

I make myself comfortable on the yard and as I lay there, I look up at the sky.

You can see the stars, it's really pretty.

I can see like one,

he responds, squinting.

There's a lot out- I can't see any from my new place,

I say as I point.

I can only focus on one at a time.

He looks over at me, and I inwardly sigh. Here I am, at 5am, buzzed, and what am I doing? I'm lying in a front yard with a cute boy, and we're looking up at the sky.

I hate you,

he tells me. I crack a smile.

why's that?

because you told me it would be a good idea to bong another beer-

I never said that. and if I did, I was joking,

I laugh.

The poor guy. He is clearly confused and heartbroken and wanting to forget the world, and all I have done is invited him to a house where drunken girls are calling boys cockroaches, and he is now drunk beyond repair, and I am sobering up, ready to leave.

You're so badass for agreeing to sleep in the grass with me.

he says.

A second ago he hates me, now i'm badass. Oh how alcohol impairs the mind.

Are you okay?

I'm concerned because I don't know that I've ever seen him this drunk. I feel like i'm a seasoned veteran taking care of him, only I'm not even old enough to legally drink, so who am I to know?

I think I'll probably get sick, it's just a matter of time.

He is brutally honest as he lays on his back, his arms folded across his chest and looking up at the sky.

I mimic his pose as I look up. It's starting to get cloudy, the sky less dark. Morning will come soon. Time passes, as we sit in silence- I feel like maybe I should say something, console him in some way, but no words come, and so I lay in the grass and watch the stars.

He gets sick, as I knew he would and I bring him a glass of water as I sadly watch him. A sad drunk person puking their guts out is perhaps to me one of the most heartwrenching things- they drank to forget, and they missed the limit, and now feel worse than before.

Can I get you anything?

a tissue?

His voice sounds weak, and my heart truly does go out to him.

As he lays back down and sips on his water, I sit and pick at the grass. tearing the pieces apart, trying to think of something clever to say, wishing I knew how to make things better but I don't.
I'm just the same, just as broken, just as sad. Only I know my limit, and tonight wasn't a night to pass it.

Are you sure you don't want to go inside,

I lean over him, as he looks up at me, so forlorn.

No, I want to sleep out here.

Even in a drunken state he's so afraid he'll get sick inside, and doesn't want to mess up the house. I concede to him, and grab a small blanket from inside. I lay it over him as he curls up in the grass, as the sky lightens.

It's 6am, time to go home.

time to go to bed,

time to give up.

on loving and losing

"It wouldn't have worked out, anyway."- Ben Harper (Another Lonely Day)
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Was he so naive to think I invited him over to my apartment at 3am to be my new best friend?

I snap out the comment as I take a sip of my fuzzy navel and ponder my existance. Fuck.

Okay, it's not a funny situation, but that's a sassy comment,

my friend replies as he leans back against his wall.

It is 3 in the afternoon, i'm drinking a fuzzy navel, he's drinking a gin and tonic and we're sitting on the floor of his almost empty apartment and I wish I could understand what's going on right now.

I don't know how to love.

I don't know how to care, how to be close to someone, how to cherish the silence, how to hold someone and feel like everything is okay. I don't know how to let go- I don't know how to give up, I don't know how to walk away, and I don't know how to approach, either. I don't know a lot, and that terrifies me.

Have I ever loved? I mean really honestly truly deep in my heart through the veins in my body cared for another soul so much it ripped my heart open to lose them?

Maybe. I think deep down I convinced myself I did- but I wouldn't really allow myself to feel.

Wouldn't let myself feel the love, the glow of another, to feel loss, to hurt, to cry, to feel betrayed, to feel alone and thrown out like there's nothing there.

I'm so good at playing people- smiling and toying and being what they want me to be- but what about what I want? what about who I am? what about the 34095485 other things that matter, too?

As I grow up I start to realize i've never loved, and i've never lost- I've never given myself the chance too.

I'm too cynical, for my own good.

on more than boys and booze

Well if I was in your position, I'd put down all my ammunition, I'd wondered why'd it taken me so long. But Lord knows that I'm not you, And If I was I wouldn't be so cruel, Cause waiting on love ain't so easy to do.- Jack Johnson (Sitting, Waiting, Wishing)
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You know girls, they drink, they take their clothes off.

You're more likely to get me to take my clothes off if I'm sober.

I'll file that fact away,

I quip in response, smiling a little.

I'm spending so much time with you lately, and I find I like it even more when there's no rum shots or vodka involved.

Do you have to work tomorrow?

Yeah- at five,

That's too bad, I was going to sweet talk you into hanging out with me.

It wouldn't take much sweet talking.

It's a game of cat and mouse. Back and forth. Back and forth. Who's going to take the leap first?

It won't be me.

Are you coming over?

Who all is there?

My company not enticing enough for you?

It would be if you weren't my sister.

Slam, right into another brick wall. Why on earth did that stupid cook have to ask you if I was your sister? We don't even look alike. Was it your blue eyes, and my brown ones that gave it away? The fact you're like 6'2" and i'm 5'5".. on a good day? Everytime I get close... you push that wall up again.


I don't know what to do,

I tell a friend as I ride in her car.

He seems interested.. but he hasn't kissed me yet.

She laughs, as I pout, and stare out the window.

It's just, at the risk of this sounding bad... i've never hung out with a guy for this long, and him not make a move.

Maybe I'm just repulsive.