I’ve seen multiple people like you and I in here before. Every single time I want to ask them what they’re drinking about. The memories are on the edge of your glass and with every sip it’s pretty obvious you’re trying to drown out their noise.
I craved the numbing, the distraction, the occupancy of my time, with something that could take me away from what I was really feeling: loneliness.
I spent two weeks without any alcohol—and my head stopped hurting in the morning and I didn’t throw up in any kitchen sinks and I didn’t have to make any phone calls to apologize and I didn’t eat a spring roll while sitting on the floor of my shower and I didn’t ever at all think it was an appropriate idea to FaceTime the guy I used to like three times at 3:34AM. I just felt fine.
Why do these songs exist? Go to the bathroom, look at your sloppy self in the mirror, panic while refreshing your CNN app, and get another drink.
16-year-old Davis Cripe experienced heart problems after drinking a large Mountain Dew, a McDonald’s latte and an energy drink all within two hours.
‘Twas the night of black out drinking and all through the house,
not a creature was stirring, you’re all still blacked out.
Drinking did make it easier to meet new people, I am not going to pretend that it didn’t. But out of the people I met while drinking I can count on one hand who I still have a good relationship with.
I don’t need five beers to feel confident enough to text a guy I like. One will do. In fact one is perfect.
Society has raised us to question those who are even the slightest bit different from us
I drink. Hell, I love drinking. If that’s not your thing, there is no harm done. Rule number one, though? Don’t make bad comments about alcohol, my drinking habits, or anything else that has the potential to kill my vibe. Just don’t do it.