My head is clear but my heart is numb.
I wish getting rid of feelings were as quick as spewing them all out into the toilet after a hard night of drinking.
It’s all coming back to me now: you were the reason why I swore off drinking in the first place.
It was in our first year of college, a few months in, when the boys in our class decided to throw a house party.
We had just started dating a month or so ago.
Your parents refused to let you go, but my mom let me so you said you were okay with it.
Up until that point I had never had alcohol so I was plastered after about a handful of rum and coke shots.
The boys had me lie down on the sofa and left me alone while they continued getting their drink on.
After a few hours’ sleep, they woke me up so we could eat and sober up before heading home.
I didn’t want my mom to see me hungover, so we all decided to hang out at R’s house until breakfast.
They let me sleep off the rest of my hangover while they played video games, but that was where disaster struck.
O noticed how inebriated I was and wanted to seize the opportunity; I was just another notch in his belt.
G saved me from making that mistake last night; he’s teased me about it mercilessly ever since.
I told you about that drunken kiss the moment I became sober.
You forgave me and even threatened to knock O‘s teeth into his skull the next time you saw him.
You told me every damn day during our semester break that I was forgiven and that you couldn’t wait to see me when class resumed.
I held on for two weeks, pining for your hugs and reassurance.
I wasn’t there when you confronted him.
Once class resumed he started to avoid having anything to do with me and eventually transferred colleges after our freshman year.
I drank myself blind when we broke up in our junior year of college.
It had been a rough day, my first day back at school after spending a week in the hospital, when I saw you in the cafeteria during lunch.
You had your arm around someone and you both looked cozy.
It looked like it wasn’t something new.
It seemed like I wasn’t in her exact same spot only a week or two ago.
I walked out before you could see me.
I remember going home and grabbing a full bottle of vodka but nothing else after that.
Alcohol isn’t going to help me through this, as much as I want it to.
Once the hangover subsides, the pain will still be there, just compounded by a splitting headache (CHECK!) and that dry mouth sensation I hate so much.
After I fell asleep writing my first letter to you, I felt a little lighter.
Maybe writing everything down will be my way of deliverance?
In a few hours, a new week will begin.
A new day, a new week, a new chapter of my life.
One I’ll be writing without you.