My only new years resolution is this: write shit down. It doesn't matter whether it's a list of groceries to pick up or a few lines of poetry scribbled on the back of a napkin- I feel like my head has started to implode. I've got too many things swirling around in there, and I need an outlet. For the majority of my life, I've grown accustomed to compartmentalizing things in my mind (almost to a fault); however, my habitual mental storage system seems to have reached capacity. And I'm entirely unprepared to process the clusterfuck of thoughts and emotions that are drowning me.
I'll start with last night, because that seems like a logical place to start. Plus it's been weighing on my mind, but more importantly, it's a story that I can wordvomit out quickly -- and get to sleep.
We rang in 2014 in such a way that I wish I would've written things down as the night unfolded. Nikita, Sar, Shem and I got a hotel room in downtown Saratoga for the night... needless to say, it was a night for the books. We drank and napped and drank and got ready, then the Banks brothers stopped by for drinks, and to be our handy somewhat-sober ride. We bar-hopped, drank drank and drank... after like our seventh cinnamon-toast-crunch shots, things started to get significantly more interesting. I somehow got separated from the group, made some bad decisions (involving men... and coke... and this random girl named trish...) and eventually stumbled around lost for over two hours. BY SOME MIRACLE, I ended up back at the hotel room... at 6am... after everyone had already passed the fuck out.
It was obviously a night of drunken, new years eve with twentysomethings, but I can't help but wonder -- why do I make such terrible decisions when I'm drunk? Why is it that sober me can quiet the thoughts of insecurity and worthlessness, but after a few drinks, I allow myself to be treated (and treat my own self) as though I'm an inferior class of human? Do the drinks make me hate myself, or do they just remove the facade concealing my true self-hatred? Why do I feel as though I'm not worthy of love or respect or common decency? Are drunk words truly sober thoughts?
