As I heard what sounded like a fat fish falling on the wet floor, all I could think of were my favorite boots. It was crucial not to get them splattered.
I lowered my eyes, which were usually looking up and above and lost in dream-land, to find a wasted-looking girl (who'd otherwise look extremely cool and elegant) puking her alcohol-corrosed insides out. The room spun. Without stopping once, I skipped over the chemically-colored purple puddle of regret on the floor and made my way over to my final destination: the last, blissful-looking black bathroom stall in the dirty, vomit-smelling, toilet-papered bathroom. I locked myself inside and let out a deep, shaky sigh.
A mental timer went off in my mind; I had less than five minutes before they started wondering where I was to figure out the entire purpose of my existence... and pee. My mind was so convoluted with thoughts and drinks that I didn't even know where to start.
I let out another breath, trying to place myself back in control.
First hang your purse on that tiny hook on the door. Check.
Now try to make that toilet look a little less infected. Check.
Okay, now concentrate and release the infinite amounts of liquids you just poured inside your bladder.
The room continued to spin whimsically around me, like a pinched balloon flying in the air. List. Make another list.
Okay.
Glass of Red Label. Shot of Grey Goose. Beer cup, beer cup, beer cup. Vodka & Red Bull.
Ew.
Nausea took me by the neck and I swooned.
My mental timer kept on running, its pace seeming to pick up as every second went by. Another breath. In and out... and start.
Thought No.1: letting the Mad Hatter go, convincing myself that I'd idealized him in every way in my mind... just because of the accent. Check. Additional note on that: this was only the first thought chronologically, not because it was the most important. Word.
Thought No.2: believing with my heart and soul that with time, things at home would even out. Because they were meant to be and they know it.
Thought No.3: dealing with my best friend and hoping to get my message across without causing much damage. Because it does happen to everyone and because I do love him to much just like that - a friend - to be straightforward about it.
Thought No.4: answering someone else's message and deciding if I want it or not.
Thought No.5: deciding if yet another person is bipolar or not, clearing things up about that stolen token of my good-will and about that drunken peace sign last weekend.
Thought No.6: not getting drunk...er.
Thought No.7: ignoring someone else's rudeness yesterday at the place I thought I'd never have to see again. Because I am too nice and because I do care too much. And because he's only bitter because I didn't grovel for him, like the wrong girl continuously does. Laughing at him because she does grovel and because he's flattered, but doesn't want her.
Thought No.8: keeping clear from someone, just for tonight, despite the ride she gave me earlier. Because she's drunk and I am too, and neither of us want to admit it.
Thought No.9: clearing things up with Freddie Mercury II - is he or is he not? I mean, WTF. I am not Bella. Technically yes, and maybe in many other ways too. But... no. Not an inspiration in that sense at all - just in the soul.
Thought No.10: STOP WORRYING ABOUT DINNER. You don't always have to say all the right things and rock because that's what friends are for - for knowing you when you do and when you don't rock. And role models and family even more. And yeah, everyone knows you're a bit of a dreamer and yeah, everyone knows you were born in the wrong decade and yeah, she's a bit of a hippie too. And she gave you her blessings on Thought No.4's someone.
Thought No.11: yeah, your parents can tell when you're sober from when you're drunk. And now you are drunk.
Thought No.12: getting on Facebook and writing your soul out... Tomorrow it will cheer you up.
Thought No.13: you shall not go straight to the bar everyday after class... at least wait till after noon.
Flush.
Get your purse.
Let the desperate banging-person outside in.
Deep breath, walk out, skip over the puddle of puke (good name for a band, innit?), wash your hands, walk out with a big drunken smile on your face and act normal.
Because you are normal - you're normally-drunk!
Cheers! (because I can't remember - or spell - the german word she taught you earlier).
*
Listening to: Walking After Midnight - Madeleine Peyroux
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