starry eyes

TWENTY

It's been a few hours, but I've finally managed to stop vomiting.

Ugh, I had an insane night, Diary. I can't feel half of my body, and the other half feels like it was hit by a Volvo, or mauled by a flock of Canadian geese or some shit.

I went to this wicked rave last night, got there some time around eight. And, for the first few hours, everything was going just fine! There was dancing, strobe lights, and the fast, erotic music... All stuff right up my alley!

Then at some point in the night, I got to dancing with this group of women. I can't actually remember any of their names, but I ended up spending most of my night with them.

I'm not looking for your judgement, Diary. All you really need to know is that I ended up doing some stuff that I probably- okay, definitely- shouldn't have, and have been paying a huge price for it all this morning.

For one thing, I woke up in a dorm room at Syracuse University this morning. Don't know how I got there or who the girl next to me was, but I got my stuff together and ran as fast as I could out of there.

I thought that once I got in the Uber and was on my way home that I was home free. I would spend the rest of the day riding out my hangover in blissful isolation.

Nope. Vomited in the Uber.

I gave my driver a hundred and fifty bucks on my way out, but I know I'll probably still end up having to pay some kind of fee for that.

But wait, dear Diary! There's more!

I get into my apartment and pull my phone out of my purse to discover dozens, maybe even a hundred, texts from people who I apparently hit up last night.

Okay, this is actually something I vaguely remember doing. I remember sitting in the back of a car with someone's arm around me. They kept telling me something like, "Trust me, you won't regret it! Getting your thoughts out like this is supposed to be therapeutic! You'll feel so much better once it's all out in the open!"

Somehow, between the rave and dorm room that I woke up in, I managed to text Alfred, Madeleine, Alice, Arthur, and Matthew what I think about them. Or, at least, what Drunk-Me thinks about them.

It got pretty personal, Diary. I opened a lot of old wounds.

With Arthur and Alice, it was a mixture of gloating and angry rambling. I asked Alice why she hates me. Threw the Revolutionary War right in their faces, too. I pretty much called them greedy assholes... Then I told them I wished Spain's colony had been the one to expand, and that he deserved the land more than they did.

I actually tried to convince Alfred to join in on my fun-filled night... And, when he didn't respond, I called him twelve times. And apparently left some pretty vicious voicemails.

I told Madeleine and Matthew that I'm jealous of them, which is true... to a certain extent. Their message was more of a sobfest than anything. I really put them up on a pedestal, telling them how much I loved them, and that I didn't know where I would be without them.

So no, Diary. It really has not been my morning.

I'm gonna go take some Tylenol... and a hot bath.