You open your eyes and pray to god you’re in your room, alone, but either way you instantly pass back out.
You wake up and in a slight panic (the only level of energy you have) to look for your phone. When you find it you check to make sure you didn’t send any embarrassing messages last night (you did). Then you cry to yourself, wish you didn’t have to move and imagine Gatorade being brought to you in bed.
You closed your eyes for 10 minutes but you really need that Gatorade so you get up and stumble your way to the fridge. You can’t see straight and the world feels like it’s basically over because you’re dying from this hangover.
You realize you have no Gatorade so you settle for slowly sipping water with Tylenol then crawl back to your bed so you can hate yourself more.
You pass out again. Or die.
You open your eyes and feel either slightly better or a million times worse. You tell yourself you’re never drinking like that again. (It’s a lie.)
You decide you should probably get up because it might make you feel better.
You realize you were wrong and miss the days when you could wake up at 8 AM with no hangover.
You make yourself throw up.
You face plant into the couch and slowly start answering all those texts you ignored when you first woke up. You start texting Anna about what you did last night and how you seriously are dead, like, seriously dead.
You hate the world and wonder why you drink because the hangover are totally not worth it. You tweet some ~*creative*~ tweet about how hungover you are and how you’re life’s a mess and how horrible you feel with a meme of someone dying.
You are starving but you don’t want to move from the couch and you actually aren’t even sure you can eat. So you text Molly to come over and bring you food because she went home early so she should totally be okay to cater to every single one of your needs and listen to how hungover you are.
Molly strolls through the door with a bagel and Kenzie, who is also super hungover, and you instantly die of happiness because Kenzie is here now so you can talk about how fucked up you got last night together. #PartyHard
You instantly regret asking questions about last night because now you’re even more embarrassed and hate yourself even more.
*Wonders when the punishment is going to end*
Remembers that Brit was totally making out with some dude at the bar last night so absolutely need to text her immediately to find out the details.
You’re still waiting for a miraculous recovery on the couch begging all your friends to come over so you don’t have to be alone and you don’t have to move.
You tell everyone you’re not going out tonight because you’re barely alive and you need to take it easy.
*Starts beer bonging liquor in the backyard.*
*Forgets about wanting to die a few hours ago and is completely fucked up, again.*