I feel foggy and dizzy and there is a time delay between the world and my brain, and words feel like syrup on my tongue. I am floating, my eyes are half closed, there is too much alcohol running through my bloodstream and I feel a little queasy and… I don’t care, because finally I have managed to dissociate myself enough from my thoughts that I cannot feel right now. I don’t want to feel. Not now. Not the things I have been feeling. They can stay away.
I am at the stage of drunk where tiredness overwhelms you, and yet, I am blogging. I don’t want to break the run of however many days it has been since I didn’t post. Getting drunk was not advisable considering the fact that it has only been two days since I came out of hospital, but this time it was sort of an accident.
Sixth form friend messaged me earlier asking me to pay for his parking and petrol from when he both took me to hospital and then visited me the next day, and for the food he brought me. I was disappointed. When I was laying in resus seriously ill he kept asking where I kept my money because he had enough to pay for parking and more, but he wanted my money (which I assured him I would pay him when I was a little further from death). Over the next couple of days, along with some very touching messages, he kept talking about money and telling me I owed him money over and over, even though I told him I would pay. At times he was more focussed on getting money from me than anything else, something many people have commented on, and something that has annoyed a lot of people into not asking him for favours. It just hurt, to have to pay someone… For their friendship, I guess. I told him that, and he told me he’d sat for two hours in the corridor nearly in tears with worry, and that hadn’t been about money. Priorities just blur, I guess.
He needed a plus one to a party. I wanted to live. I wanted to feel 20. I knew it was a stupid idea, and that sensible is necessary to get through right now. But I needed to let loose. I have spent the past few days at war with my emotions, being torn apart by them, crumpling under the weight of them. I am hollow, numb, beaten, destroyed. And I wanted to forget that. My head filled with images of flat parties at uni and that seemed like a good cure.
It was more of a “depart-me” than a party. It was an 18th birthday party, a small gathering of strangers who all knew each other and talked about people I had never heard of and a prom I didn’t care about. They sat on the kitchen floor, while the girl’s dad stepped around us to get himself food etc. These people didn’t know how to party. Not like the uni parties and stuff that I’m used to. I suddenly missed uni, a lot. Sat in that kitchen, staring at my phone, I just wanted second year to be here now.
There was pizza, there were crisps. I drank a beer and a pint of schnapps and lemonade in the time it took sixth form friend to drink one shandy. My eyeballs felt warm. Boredom turned me to a zombie. There was a guy there who loved himself because he went to uni, he kept bragging about how he was older than everyone, until I pointed out that I was older than him and also went to uni (drunk me doesn’t really care). I wanted to leave after we’d been there a few minutes. I opened a bottle of cider and drank it on the way home, which meant driving right past the hospital (not my local, but the second nearest) where my life was saved the other day (right before y’know… Just read the last couple of posts).
I walked slowly through a supermarket while tipsy, because sixth form friend bought some alcohol with the intention of moving on to another party. I asked him to drop me back at my parents’. I was at the stage of drunk where I just wanted to sleep, and I didn’t want to push my body too far. My emotions were drowned and dying of alcohol toxicity, and the rest of me was just warm and mellowed and chilled in its place.
I drunk cooked myself a late dinner. I watched a film on my phone and I didn’t care that the alcohol started to give me a headache, that I felt a little sick and a little dizzy. All I cared about was that the emotion was gone.
I am emotionally drunk even when I am sober.
I am lost, and I am fractured, and I am searching.
Some stuff happened today that I will mention tomorrow, once I’ve y’know… Given my liver the time it needs to clear all the alcohol from my blood (there isn’t that much, but in my current state of health I am such a lightweight, and I was feeling it after the first of the three drinks that I’ve had tonight).
I know it was wrong. Sometimes the wrong thing just seems so right.
I just didn’t know what else to do.
I am Icarus.
Stupid. Idiot. Irresponsible… Desperate.
Not only am I flying too close to the sun, I am drunk-flying too close to the sun.
And yet, these wings that were a few days ago melting, are holding up a body that was a few days ago plummeting towards its own death. There is no certainty any more about the outcome of all of this, only gambles I take with my health now. No time for what ifs. No time to stop and think. Only to live until it is time to fight again. And now, to sleep. Because Icarus is drunk and should not be in charge of these wings.