Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 2 of 2)

July 3

July 3

This is the part of Pride where all of the days have merged into one, and I am still waking up drunk and/or high from the day and/or night before. At this point, I don't even remember what time I woke up this morning.

I managed to clean up what was now the third apartment bomb of the weekend, but I couldn't bring myself to do the dishes. There were so fucking many. I swear to God, when I finally move out of the Witch Cave, I want two things: large windows and a dishwasher. I simply cannot live without either anymore. Last night got to the point where I was serving drinks out of cookware, because I had run out of proper glasses. It takes so long to wash them. Seriously, the amount of time I spend doing dishes makes me so angry. I could be doing so many other things with that time. Think of all the Instagram videos or masturbating I could have accomplished if my hands weren't submerged in suds.

Anyway, like I said, I barely remember what time I woke up, nor do I really remember getting ready for the day. I spent a lot of time responding to the random, nameless numbers in my phone, once again realizing that I could have had so much dick if I hadn't been so wasted. Live and learn – again, and again. I got my stuff together, possibly had a drink before I left, and maybe smoked some weed. No. Wait. I sparked it all up last night.

I walked along the closed-down streets of the Village, and then got a cab to Kyle and Alison's. The two of them were hosting a pre-drink for the parade. Despite my tardiness, it didn't take long for me to catch up to them. I finished my bottle of champagne pretty quickly, did a couple of shots, and was then naturally fed some Fireball by Kyle. As if I hadn't learned my lesson with Fireball during Pride 2014 – or even in September 2013, when Kyle and I got blackout drunk in a basement together off the stuff. Damn it. This was already going to be a mess.

There were a lot of people at Kyle and Alison's. I vaguely remember DJ'ing my usual gay tunes, and putting lip tattoos and finger decals on myself and others. Eventually, the large group hit the street and walked to our usual parade viewing location at the North-East corner of Yonge and Dundas. I waved to Cyndi Lauper along the way.

At some point during our pilgrimage to the Holy Land, I was also fed some MDMA. I don't remember how I took it, where I took it, or how much I took, but I know that I had some. So, that happened.

Moving on.

Naturally, when we were about 80% of the way to our destination, I realized that I had left my phone at Kyle and Alison's apartment. I took their keys, and went back to get it. This was one of those moments that, looking back on, I can remember doing. However, I'm unable to recall the full details of what happened between the time I left the parade spot, and when I returned.

I remember fumbling with 18,000 keys outside the apartment. The keyring Kyle gave me looked like it belonged to a prison warden.

I remember hoping my phone was actually in the apartment, and not lost.