I guess this is something you learn through experience. Do not drink and take a nap. You will not be capable of going to Gilman an hour later.

I'm heavily editing this as I type because I don't think it's funny this time. I'll probably erase it in an hour anyway.

If any of my professors or my parents could see me now, they would not be very proud of me. If I could truly see myself now, likewise.

I'm not sure what possessed me to drink in the afternoon while writing a paper due at 5. It's not really fun to drink alone. It's no fun at all to wake up not understanding anything and letting your Josh go to dinner without you, because you can't understand what's going on at Gilman. This is pure stupidity. This has to stop.

I couldn't remember where I put my clothes. I couldn't figure out the difference between "neck" and "stomach." I probably could have walked to Gilman, but I couldn't have ordered anything with any coherence. I want this to go away now. It's fun on a Friday night. This doesn't feel good alone on a Monday at 6:52 pm while your friends are at Gilman wondering what the fuck is wrong with you.

This has to be confined to Friday nights. This isn't very funny anymore. I have so much to do. I'm letting myself down.

A year ago I wouldn't have believed I'd be doing this. This should be, if anything, a reward for accomplishment, not yet another tool for procrastination. I can't be doing this. This is ridiculous. I'm so embarrassed.

I want so badly to feel well enough to walk to Gilman. I want to join my friends and eat and laugh. I said 20 minutes. It's been thirty. I can't choose how I want to feel right now. It's out of my control. I never wanted to give up my control. I just gave it up to a substance. What a waste. I want lucidity now. I have no choice in the matter.

I know exactly what I'm typing, though I keep spelling things wrong and correcting myself; I tried to start my history assignment on Queen Victoria ten minutes ago and I understood just fine, though my vision kept spiralling away. I know what I'm doing. I just can't make my body cooperate. This isn't worth anything. What is this feeling good for? Nothing on a Monday night. What a waste. How embarrassing. I have ceded everything. To what, I'm afraid to know.

Now I'm just filling time till I feel sober enough to go to Gilman. This is as much a waste of your time as mine, now. I should sit here and wallow, now. I should know this feeling for all it's worth, now. I should wait for it to go away until finally my friends get tired of waiting for me; I should feel badly when Lani enters quietly; I should feel miserable until I'm finally clear-headed enough to drive somewhere to eat something. Alone.

Alone - this was my stupidity, in the week when everything is due, my choice, my consequences. Ridiculous to say "don't let me do this again." It's up to me if I don't want to feel this way again.

Never before and never again: I want to go to Gilman so badly.

in your world, you're alone in your face
you're alone in your world
you're alone in your face
the cranberries