I've Got A Feeling

Fourty One

You are the worst person in the world. How can you even stand to live? Paul wouldn't be feeling like this. He'd just get over it and move on, but not you. Oh no, you fucking beaut. You have to sit here and cry over a bloke who never loved you and never will love you. How could you even choose to love him? It's either one or the other, twat. You don't deserve love. Get yer coat on, let's go have a drink.

"No, Paul told me not to."

Is someone *afraid*? What hurt would it cause you? He doesn't have to know, ever. Just say that you weren't feeling well, he'll believe it. There were times you actually were sick and he didn't ever have a thought towards drinking. It's worked before, it can work once more. It's your life to run, not his. Go on, get the money and jacket.

"Stop it." I said, feeling anger rise within my nerves as my hands shaped into coarsely knit fists.

C'mon, this'll help you. It always has. Remember how you got over Julia? Shots of vodka and whiskey, strong ones too. Paul wasn't there for you then and he isn't now. He only is friends with you out of pity. Why would he care about someone like you? A rude, queer, and sneering prick like you.

"S-Stop it. He loves me, I know he does." I could feel my throat closing in as my lip continued to whimper.

Does he now? If he truly loved you, then why is he trying to force you to get over Stuart? Why does he always nitpick the things you write and say? When was the last time he hugged you, kissed you, made you feel like a man? That's right, never. Don't you know that queers are criminals? They choose to get arrested because they choose to live dangerously. You just think he loves you and you think you love him, bloody oblivious woman. How does a drink sound now?

"Mimi, I'm goin' out!" I said as I pulled on my leather jacket. "Okay, just don't be out too late!"

Walking down the spring streets, I see people's eyes dagger into me. Picking up my pace and stuffing my fists into my stiff pockets, I reach the place of my comfort. The smell of cheap beer and spirits deck my nostrils, making it difficult to stand straight for a moment with the pungent fragrances. I walk to the bartender, slam some money on the counter and take my drink to the corner of the room. Chugging down my first glass of beer, I feel alive. The blood in my system runs warm, making my nerves relax. It wouldn't hurt to have another, it's not like I have a car to drive anyway. My limbs feel a sliver wobbly, but I still manage to make it over to the front counter to be served a couple shots of whiskey.

To you, Stu. Images of us having drinking contest with the cheapest stuff fill the front of my brain, as I realize how awful the aftertaste on my tongue is. I down them faster a sprinter can run, wincing at the burning sensation it brings. Would a pansy gag? No, unless you are one.

Muttering under my breath, I down two more. I realize how dry my throat has become, trying to clear the scratchiness away like my sadness. More people seem to be coming in, but it all is too blurry. Somehow I can sense their stares on me, making me lower my head and therefore eyes to the floor. The lights start to burn my eyes, causing them to water. No no no, don't start watering. People will think I'm crying. I start to try and blink them away, but this just increases the pain more. I really should have brought me lenses, since this is getting out of hand in my terms but alas, I didn't bring them. Pain traveled up to my head at an alarming rate. I tried rubbing my temples, but that only brought temporary relief. I need Paul right now with me. He would know what to do. I started to shake, feeling like that little five year old who felt so lost, only with a system full of alcohol this time.

"Are you okay?" Squinting, I could faintly paint out a lady with copper hair and about my height. "Yeah, just a bit down is all. I'll be fine soon though." An arm snaked around my shoulder, making me shudder in surprise. "Well, I could fix that for you. Save all the nonsense, just you and me having a good time." Flipping my flirting switch on, I coax her a little. "Fetch me a drink and we'll see, pretty bird." I saw her smile as she ran off to the front. Soon enough there was yet another glass placed into my hand, making its way to my tastebuds. It morphed into candy on my tongue, filling me with short joy. Finishing it off, I could feel her hot breath in my ear. "So, what's it gonna be, Lennon?" A shiver spilled over me like the velvety alcoholic drink in my throat and esophagus. Bubbling in my stomach, I could feel it. "Excuse me for a moment." Handing the cup back to her, my feet pick up the pace as I hustled to the bathrooms in back.