English Homework

drunk.

This is an episode of me most definitely being the bad example my friend's parents don't see. I got drunk in the middle of the night to celebrate Post-Christmas. A pat on the back for my efforts at making everyone else's Christmas fucking magical. It's the middle of the night and I thought it was gonna be deep and unconscious like a second nature but here is what I birthed instead. Besides typos, nothing has been edited. It feels poetic to a certain extent but mostly confused.

• 𝓼𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓰𝓰𝓵𝔂 𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼 •

It told myself I would be prepared for it, wanting to catch a glimpse of my first slips into the warmth of lucidity that the drug provided. I wanted to take note of its caresses against my body and the works of it against will through my skin and its power over my body. I wanted to tell people what to be prepared for if they decided to go down the same road as I.

I thought I would catch it, like the breeze to a kite on an open hill and feel it coming before it hit at its highest strength. Yet I didn't. Not until it was too late anyway. Beforehand, here are my notes you too can examine before you take flight on this unholy journey. One where you may fall prey to sinful urges and thoughts, where you momentarily aren't the master of your own skin.

First, a warning; if you are like me and too understand that this won't make you forget or happy like we're told in Primary school Science. It may distract you at best. If you are like me, you experimenting is purely besides any such reason. Yours isn't valid, or worth it. It isn't driven by the emotional instability driven into your aching, needy soul by the world around you. It isn't your learning to cope. Its not your courage to take a much needed leap.

No, you just want to try it and find out.

A burning in your chest, down your throat and into the pit of your belly will ignite with a force never before known.

It will feel naught like hot coffee or chocolate. It will light everything in its wake ablaze and warm the darkest pits of your heart with its destructive force. It will feel somehow, poetically, beautiful. You'll no longer seek the warmth around you from a neighbour or a lover or a friend. You won't desire the heat from another body against yours as you are already ablaze, burning inside out. You've set off a roaring fire within yourself.

The following is to be noted:

The swaying of my head in this moment in time may be an effect of the insistent wind blowing round and round within this house. Yes, a sleepy tornado roving around the dining table at which I sit. Or maybe it is a concoction of that which we speak.

It feels heavy. Weighed down by billions of hours of knowledge packed up, ome more significant than others; others long forgotten. Though with their significance, you still carrying their weight in your mind them waiting to be lit by remembrance. Your head falls, left and right and you take a deep breath, focusing on your music, forgetting how the shutters over your eyes droop.

You should thank the heavens that you are on your own right now. Lord knows what a nuisance you would be, had anyone found out, of course. You are disobedient, you feel terribly. This isn't worth it.

Tire washes over you, the feeling coming in in intervals of strong waves beating against your consciousness. You don't want to sleep, you have things to do. But you bit off more than you could chew.

You can fee it behind your eyes with every blink. But what is it? The pressure at their juncture, the words slipping through your ears from deafeningly loud earphones. All in all, it just feels like you need A LOT of sleep. You best keep yourself well. Your head would have been served on a platter. But, I think you will sleep now.

You're clumsy now, confused. How much will you have to up the volume on the music before you give in to the reality of this all? GO NOW! How could anyone desire this? You're miserable.