A Completely Relatable Morning

I am so hung-over right now for the 2nd time this week, I’m sat in costa as usual and it’s probably been about an hour now of me just sitting here not typing! Watching YouTube videos on my phone, not even touched my food or my drink or even loaded up my work. If I’m honest, even writing this is difficult. Today is Friday and I woke up at 12pm and this time I had at least made it down to my underwear before falling into bed, I did the initial blurry-eyed room scan to make sure I could see that all my things had made it home with me and also that there wasn’t some random one night stand guy hiding somewhere trying to escape! Not this time, everything was here (minus the one night stand) so that was a plus, then my mind caught up a bit and I scrambled to find my phone (that I hadn’t put on charge) and instantly scanned through my socials to see what I had posted the night before, be it one of those ‘I don’t give a shit’ drunk Facebook statuses or maybe one too many poorly angled Snapchat photos, opened anything that I could have sent a drunk message on, not so surprisingly discovering I had (eye-roll) sent the standard ‘always awkward’ recovery reply message to ease their confusion and then slowly pulled the duvet over my pounding head to wallow in awful beer fear flashbacks that always happen after a heavy night on the whiskey. Once I had gotten to a place of acceptance of my drunken antics and talked myself into slight denial I forced myself to get out the bed, swinging my legs round was now sitting and facing my reflection in the mirror, Jesus! I definitely looked how I felt, hair stuck up in blue tufts jutting out at odd angles, eye bags the size of suitcases with sleep crust collecting in the inner corners, my little bloated beer belly sitting over my pants a little, and dirty ankles from having my jeans rolled up and scuffing them while dancing. Dragging myself to my feet I staggered to my draws, trying not to trip and die on all the discarded outfit choices from last night that still littered my bedroom floor and avoiding the mirror that hangs above them, one look was already too much and I didn’t need another reminder of how I looked, I found my wipes and removed last night from my face, it was cold and felt so good, all the while thinking ‘why do I do this to myself, again and again and again?’

 

That brings us back to here, in costa, not writing, well I am obviously writing this but that’s besides the point. That was my morning, and I can’t even say it will be the last morning I spend feeling like utter shit with instant regrets because that would be a lie, tomorrow is gay pride in my town, so I know Sunday will be ridiculous! I’m just going to say my prayers and stock up on my hangover remedies in preparation and hope I make it through alive!

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