The Hangover Bet {Shyland}

One: Shane Yaw

Hi. My name is Shane Yaw. Or well, Dawson. Shane Dawson, that is. That's what everybody calls me. I'm sort of an entertainer. I make comedy videos for a website called YouTube. Uh anyway, I'm gonna start this off blunt. My life has gone to shit. There's not a single thing that I look forward to anymore, or anything that doesn't make me feel sad or depressed. I sound like a shitty tortured artist, I know, but I swear it's true. So um, the therapist told me to list off things that make me upset, I guess. Number one, my mom is in the hospital. My mom and I have always had this unbreakable bond between us. She's really the only one that has ever been there for me. Now shes in the hospital with a severe case of  pneumonia. Sure, it's not cancer or anything, but it's still shitty. I can't even go to visit her, because it's contagious. I have to kind of awkwardly stand outside of her room. She doesn't even know I'm there half of the time. She's always knocked out with anesthesia. Number two, my dog, Miley, just died. She wasn't doing well for a few months, and then I was forced to put her down. I don't want to admit how much I cried that day. Number three, I am completely and utterly alone. My last long-term girlfriend broke up with me last year but, as pathetic as it sounds, I'm still upset about it. I haven't dated anyone since. I've missed having a body to sleep next to. I've missed having a hand to hold. Lips to kiss. A shoulder that's always there to cry on. The only two people I've had in my life for the past three years have been my two best friends, Garrett and Drew. They're great, but they're just friends. Number four, I am totally and completely insecure. I  look in the mirror and well up with tears. I'm fat. I'm so fat. These thoughts and insecurities ruin my life. I can't even tell you the last time I took a shower. Well um, that's all I have for today I guess.

I closed the green composition notebook. I pushed the black leather computer chair away from my wooden desk. I tipped my head back and sighed. The therapist I've been seeing said that writing all of this bad shit down will make me feel better, but I don't see how. I don't feel any better than I did ten minutes ago. I closed my eyes, and tried not to picture what I dreaded. I tried not to picture my mother in her hospital bed, or Lisa breaking up with me or my dog dying. It didn't work.

I opened my eyes and ran my hand through my greasy hair. I rubbed my eyes and slowly got up from my chair. I stood in front of my chair for a good minute. I stared at the wall, into the nothingness. I was so aware of my own breath, of my heartbeat. I closed my eyes and tried to will it to stop. I wanted to just drop dead. Quick and painless. It would all be over. The pain I've endured for the past year would all be over. It's not like it'll get any better anyway. 

I opened my eyes again. I wasn't dead. I was still staring at the wall. The hue of the paint made my eyes hurt when I looked at it for too long. I looked back at my computer chair. There was a large rip in the center. I crouched down and traced it with my finger. Great. Just another thing I have to fix. I thought. If only I could fix my life as easily as I can fix this chair. 

I stood up and pushed the chair back into the desk. I looked around at my painfully empty and silent house. I dug my phone out of my pocket to check the time. It was 8:30pm. For the entire day, I had just been sitting on the couch, watching either Big Brother, RuPaul's Drag Race, or a random ass TV show I stumbled across while channel surfing. 

I had Twenty-seven texts from Drew, Garrett, and Trish. I smiled a little bit. It was nice to know that those three cared about me. I opened Drew's. There were five texts from him.

Hey, how're you doing? 

Are you okay Shane? I'm really worried about you....

Shane, You're stressing me and Garrett out. Please text us back and let us know that you're ok

I know you're going through a bad time now, but you need to let at least one of us know that you're okay. Okay? 

It'll get better. I promise.

He was genuinely worried about me. I felt bad for not answering him now. There were fifteen more texts similar to that from Garrett, and seven from Trish. I texted them all back, saying that I was okay, and I was working my way through it. I thanked them all in another text, saying that without them, I'd probably be even worse than I am. I shut my phone off and stuffed it back into my back pocket.   

I went to get my alcohol from my stash, only to realize that there was none left.  I clenched my teeth in frustration. I took the empty bottles and threw them in the trash violently. I heard the shattering of glass.I exhaled sharply, and turned on my heels towards the living room. I threw myself down onto the couch and took out my phone again. I saw a text from Garrett on my screen. 

Go out tonight, or go to Target, or something. Being isolated doesn't help anything.

I sighed, and realized that he was right. I needed to get out of this house. I thought about just going to target. Then, my mind wandered and got a different idea. A bar. I needed to well, "drown my feelings with alcohol" anyway, so why not go to a bar. I debated it for a few seconds before pressing my lips together and nodding. 

I went to the bathroom and saw my greasy, messy hair in the mirror. I couldn't go out like this. I undressed and stepped into the shower. I felt the hot water pour onto my hair, face, and body. It honestly felt kind of nice. I tipped my face up towards the shower head and the water rained onto my face. I snapped out of the sort of trance that I was in, and grabbed my bottle of shampoo. I squeezed the shampoo onto my hand and lathered it into my hair. I massaged my scalp as I went over everything that could possibly go wrong tonight, as I always do. What can I say? I'm a very anxious person. I rinsed he shampoo out of my hair. I skipped the conditioner and shut off the water. I grabbed a green bath towel and squeezed my hair out. I dried my hair with the towel, and then my body. Once, I was dry, I grabbed a random shirt and shorts out of my drawers. I threw those on and then brushed and blow-dried my hair. I put on some socks and sneakers and ran downstairs. I grabbed my keys and my phone and turned the lights off. I walked out the door into the twilight. I closed the door behind me and exhaled. I blinked and started to walk to my car. Before I opened the car door, I decided that it would be wiser to take a cab. I called a cab and waited for it by the street. 

The crickets were beginning to chirp, and it was getting darker by the minute. The street lamps began to flicker on. The cab pulled up, finally. Alright, let's do this. I thought, as I opened the door and got inside.