Sobs from the kitchen blended with the moans coming from the bedroom creating this duet that seemed to say, “There is only sadness with intervals of mediocre drunk sex, and then you die.” And according to my experience, that seemed to be true.
I spent that weekend drunk and stoned with short naps in between. The worst part of the night was the moment I realised we were out of weed and thought, “What do I do now?”
Most of the partygoers had put themselves to bed, a couple were having a drunken, overall meaningless, heart to heart on the back porch, and I, unable to sleep, cleaned the kitchen and made sure everything was in order so i could leave once sober. I never did sober up, i just kept finishing all the drinks that scattered the kitchen as I cleaned.
I finally crawled into bed with a couple friends and slept for about two hours. Then woke up drunk.
Kalie drove me home and when she stopped outside my house the road still moved. It was Sunday afternoon, I went to bed and woke up Monday night. I hadnt eaten in 40 hours.
It was the first time I’d felt like myself in 4 months.