So...as you may or may not know and/or care, I've been struggling with writing a fanfiction recently, so I did what I usually do and got really drunk and wrote...not the fic, but something:
I can't write. My inspiration is gone. If only there were some magic potion that could make it better...
I see the shot glass I bought from the island where my grandma was born, sitting on my desk, looking right at me. I don't even think I was 18 when I bought it, just like I wasn't 18 when I had the photo on my photo ID taken...the ID I used to buy a bottle of cherry Sourz a few days ago.
I sigh as I put two and two together, knowing exactly where this leads. But...what if it doesn't have to this time? I'm not 18 anymore, I can drink responsibly. I take the bottle off the shelf and pour myself a shot.
It's sour, of course, but also sweet, the familiar burn of the alcohol searing the back of my throat. It tastes good. I don't have to go crazy, just enough to get some liquid inspiration. Those two shots won't do it, so I chug another.
I wonder what my grandma was thinking when she let her 17-year-old granddaughter buy a shot glass. Probably, "well, she'll be 18 soon and knowing our family, it will be all downhill from there." She wasn't wrong.
I still don't feel a buzz. I pour another shot, and another, and another, and...I lose count after that. Maybe it's not so bad, drinking. I remember being told a story at uni about a guy who said drinking saved his life, but I don't remember his name or who he is. It's just some crazy story we used to tell to justify getting shit faced and missing lectures the next morning.
I put on some old episodes of Family Guy for...inspiration? Background noise? Just because? I don't know. I think the Sourz is starting to kick in.
The shot glass seems to get smaller the more I pour into it. It's a simple thing, mostly clear and colourless, with the three-legged coat of arms of the Isle of...oh...what is it called? Oh well. The coat of arms is the same colour as the cherry Sourz.
Do I even need the glass? If I continue trying to pour shots into it, I'm going to spill something, but if I just drink straight out of the bottle...
I may as well stop pretending. I know exactly where this leads. I put the glass down and take a swig straight from the bottle. I'm feeling so good now, so happy, so at peace with the world.
I set the shot glass aside. It's probably for the best. Somehow, it reminds me of a simpler, more innocent time. Maybe that's what my grandma was thinking when she let me buy it, she thought it might make me think twice about succumbing to the family curse. Too bad it only works when I'm already drunk.
Back in the old days, at uni, I would have only drunk like this to go out with my friends and party the night away. I still feel the urge to dance. Instead, I laugh at the memory. All those friends have moved on now, to bigger and better things - and I suppose technically, I have too. There's just this one habit I can't quite seem to kick. I wonder if any of those old friends ever drink like this and remember the old days.
I'm so tired. I haven't even looked at the thing I'm supposed to be writing. Oh well. I know where this leads. I rest my head, just for a few minutes...oh, who am I kidding? I'm falling asleep, still vaguely aware of Family Guy in the background, lulling me to sleep like a lullaby. One of these days, I won't wake up again, but as a wise person once said, "never get drunk unless you're willing to pay for it in the morning."
A/N: I'm aware it's a cheap shot, but it's a cheap shot at someone who can definitely take it and will never read this anyway.
kianamaiart
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romaincrisis
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