I can't say that I hit rock bottom in the traditional "bottom of the well" genre. It just seemed like the mornings after, complete with smeared mascara and a garbage bag full of puke, were becoming the rule rather than the exception. My frat-girl days were long over and the 9-6 job I worked kept them that way...at least, kept the old friends away leaving me totally isolated when I wasn't at work.
So I'd drink. Not every day but two times a week maybe and I'd go hard, like I did when I had regular sleepovers at the Phi Delta Theta house. Like I was still at a toga party after everyone else had left. My last "toga party" was last night. I sat with two bottles of wine and smoked cigarettes out of my apartment window, blowing smoke rings into the frosty Canadian night air. And when I woke up this morning, exhausted and disappointed, I finally let my ex-roommates words sink in... "You drink too much."
I know I'm going to get lonely and bored and want to drink. It'll probably happen on Friday but this time I feel like I'm armed with something new...the truth and an honesty with myself that I haven't had before. I love to drink more than I should.
So I'd drink. Not every day but two times a week maybe and I'd go hard, like I did when I had regular sleepovers at the Phi Delta Theta house. Like I was still at a toga party after everyone else had left. My last "toga party" was last night. I sat with two bottles of wine and smoked cigarettes out of my apartment window, blowing smoke rings into the frosty Canadian night air. And when I woke up this morning, exhausted and disappointed, I finally let my ex-roommates words sink in... "You drink too much."
I know I'm going to get lonely and bored and want to drink. It'll probably happen on Friday but this time I feel like I'm armed with something new...the truth and an honesty with myself that I haven't had before. I love to drink more than I should.
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