Sip from the wrong cup

A Sunday today, if only it were as the one I described before but it was far from it. As I bear the sting of my bloodshot eyes straining to open to the elements,  accompanied by the dull throbbing of my tensed temples I become grudgingly lumbered with a heavy sense of shame, humiliation and regret the weight of the world upon my brittle bones since I befall conscious of my behaviour of the drunken night before. Not forgetting a whirlpool of confusion wondering not only how you got here but where here actually is. Whilst part of me wishes frantically to control the uncontrollable, rewind time like reeling in a yoyo, another part of me accepts that it is impossible with the only escape remaining is to continue drinking a black brick road back into my planet of numbness. I would question what happened last night and where I am but truthfully i am beyond petrified to attain this knowledge. Slowly but surely, flashes of the party return and the echoing of words in my mind. I try staying optimistic that if its existence is blanked out of my mind for long enough, maybe there is a chance it would be hidden to the rest of the world too. It has been said that expectations lead to disappointments. I had expected to dance the night away, to laugh, and to be happy with the slight chance of being intoxicated enough to receive the gift of courage from a bottle except not steal my sagacity. I could never have predicted the most unpleasant potential outcome of this night.

Normally the anecdote begins adequate before turning dire. Unsurprisingly, mine is an anecdote that begins at its worst. Let's just say I like to party hard, but not so much the next day. The heavy heartbeat of the party lures me and as I walk through the door like a portal to my escape,  I'm there. I'm in the moment, everything is wild and spinning, so many flashing colours in my eyes to be deciphered. The thunderous bass, blinding illuminations and  vaguely familiar tastes all too overpowering to sense, feel or think of anything else. A state of mental paralysis, no thought can penetrate this wall of carelessness. It reminds me of Alice, I wonder if this is my wonderland. But back to the story, There is a boy... surprise, surprise. For private purposes we will call him Borneo. We met by chance at a gig, I was lost in one of my favourite songs until I felt a tingle on my hand of where his skin had touched mine, he held my hand and shot me a cheeky grin. I hate holding hands  but with him, I didn't mind it and I didn't even know him. We went out on dates blah blah blah, it was fun. Until he poisoned our fun with commitment. We are young! this is the time to experience and explore as much as you can so you can make greater judgements of what is best in your future. If you settle for anything now, you will live the rest of your life in regret, die with the curiosity of 'what ifs' in your heart, crying to know what else is out there. He didnt get it, he wanted me all to himself, so I left him for the world. 6 months cruise by with no contact (because according to him, that's the only way to get over someone) and we started talking again. It always felt so relaxed and natural with him. I didn't have to think about anything, whatever I did he loved. it wasn't till we drifted because of the commitment poison  again that I realised how much I missed him. the way his golden hair goes wild and messy towards the end of the day, how calming his blue eyes are through the geeky glasses lenses, not to mention his goofy laugh. But I missed the silences too. They were never awkward or sad. it's like we were both just happy to be in each other's company, and we didn't have to say it.

This time, he had moved on, properly. He had buried the memories of us, and games of mine under the ocean, further than the anchor of pain he had dropped with it but i had swam down and brought it all back up, just for a night. Outside the house of the party on a Saturday night, i knew he lived close and he agreed to see me. He must've known from my slurring words and drowsy voice i was drunk. He didn't care, he did his goofy laugh, as I had hoped. so as I sacrificed the time put into my hair and makeup by sitting on the curb of a street in the pouring rain with him, we exchanged words and shared memories of being together over a beer. It felt so right to be back there. His warm hands led my frozen hands into the white fur of his khaki parka jacket. We were so close, I could feel his breathe, warm, on my skin. And then he kissed me. My lips had craved his touch again. To my discomfort I had to pull away because somewhere between the drinks and stories I had forgotten he has a girlfriend.  I almost felt sick with disgust in myself. I had sworn to never be that girl, you know. The expression on his face almost spoke to me, a look of  'i couldn't care less'. He claimed to love this girl, would he have done the same to me as well then? I crawled back into my armour and fell back into my old philosophy of love. It  doesn't exist.

He had said something earlier that stuck in my mind "I can't believe I'm the only person you have ever kissed", I knew it gave him a sense of specialty and power. I was determined to destroy every bit of it. I guess you could say i went on a rampage, a kissing rampage. I kissed Phoenix- my best boy friend who is 'secretly' in love with me. I kissed Chace- my best girl friend who acts like she doesn't give a f**k but is actually insecure despite her beauty. I kissed RiRi- just some chick I barely know. But don't be fooled, that wasn't the only smart decision of the night i made, oh no. I also decided I would intoxicate myself enough that the dark liquor that went straight to my head could carry my memory of this night to my liver with it, never to be seen again... although I don't want to remember. Obviously, this didn't work out well. It left we with rumours I couldn't confirm to be true or not, raised plum shaded bruises and a message in the morning saying ' please don't tell anyone about last night.' I guess writing a diary is another one of my smart decisions.  I just wanted it all to disappear, but sooner or later accepted it wouldn't. Maybe that doesn't sound too bad, we all make mistakes but it still took me two months to try and put it down on paper. As much as I would love to lie and say Borneo didn't linger on my mind, I can't. Whether I wanted him because I wanted him or because i could not have him,i don't know because we haven't spoken since that night.