I was planning on writing a blog today about getting back to normal and how it feels good to be hungover again. I can't do it. I'm in the midst of one of those hangovers that make you think you're never going to be normal again. I'm getting old, this is probably going to last at least three days.
There was a time when I would drink for the hangover. I was untouchable. Nobody bothered me when I was hungover because they didn't want to deal with me. I get really needy, and really silly when I have flu-like symptoms. So I would remain horizontal and watch Netflix for fourteen hours, in peace. Peace from the roommates and peace from myself. I ate whatever I wanted without an ounce of guilt. Wasn't my fault that I ordered $18 of Taco Bell, I was hungover. Those were the days my friend...
I woke up at 1:00 today and thought it was 8:30. I could smell how hungover I was before I even got up. I had an hour to shit, shower, and get over to my grandparent's for lunch. I was 27 minutes late. I love my mom, obviously, but it was really selfish of her to have "her day" on my only day off. I don't want to say that it was a waste of a day off but I had planned on doing nothing. Now I was doing something. Multiple things actually. When I got to my grandparents house my mother made me carry a flower pot that I would have sworn was 300 pounds. Immediately threw up in my grandparents' driveway. Mom was not amused. My grandparents sat on the backyard porch and we sat distanced out on the lawn. In the fucking sun no less. I ate half of my meal and decided I was over Mother's Day. Luckily, no one was allowed in the house because of high risk and everything. Where you see responsible pandemic precautions, I see opportunity. I made up that I had the shits and announced that I was running home to use the bathroom but that I'd be back. My Grandma, the angel that she is, insisted I stay home if my tummy wasn't feeling well. My mother couldn't expose me without being embarrassed in front of her own parents for how miserably she failed in raising me, despite her best efforts. So through a gritted teeth smile she said "Go get some rest sweetie" and I was out.
I spent the rest of the day in the fetal position with the Batman trilogy playing in the background. I scrolled through TikTok to distract myself from the nuke of a drunk text I sent last night. Just writing about it makes my toes curl. My room has been diminished to a drink graveyard. There's nine different types of empty drinks on my window sill. I bought an air freshener from my bed. My naked bed. My sheets are missing and I have no idea where they went or why they're gone. I don't think I peed, but there are no guarantees in this life.
I prayed today for the first time since my Nan died. I thought it would feel silly talking to her in my head and wishing her a Happy Mother's Day. It didn't. I'm not confident it works but on the off chance it does I don't want to be pulled up to heaven by my ear when I die for neglecting her on Mother's Day. The prayer ended because I got embarrassed that I asked Nan to take my hangover away if she had any pull. I threw up afterwards.
Youth is wasted on the little assholes who don't get hungover. Enjoy enjoying your hangovers while you have the chance. I am living proof that those days are numbered.
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