Hangovers

Day 13, 14, 15

I have hardly been home the last three days as I've purposely kept my little life as manic as possible.
Friday - was two of my best friends bithday parties. They had hired a venue, got lights and music and needless say - I was borderline paraletic. After around half a litre of vodka down my throat, things didn't seem so bad. I danced like crazy with everyone and anyone. I bought drink after drink and took smiley pictures with all the lovely people there, who I have known for so long. My memory fails me after around 9:30 pm, the colours were swimming by then, what was said didn't add up in my head and I just danced until suddenly I woke up the following day, in my own bed and with a banging headache. I still have no idea how I got home. Some said I got a taxi. Others claim I got a lift with a friend. I don't know, I don't care.

Saturday - I went into Bournemouth for some theraputic money spending on clothes which I don't really need. I went with him and an old guy friend of ours. He sort of.... not ignored me, but didn't particularly aknowledge my existence either. What was originally a shopping trip for both of us turned into shopping for just me, as he had bought everything he wanted before I even arrived. So the guys basically followed me around, cracking jokes between themselves and made me feel a little out of place. Later, we went to their friends, had some pasta, he organised for some people to go to his the same evening but I was told not to come as she would be there. I would be unwanted. After this, the guys and I drove to mine, they ate and I began getting ready for the posh dinner with All Saints Drama lot that evening. I put on my prom dress, which was first bought for his prom, to wear with him, and he said, as a we came downstairs for me to be picked up that I looked "beautiful." I was supposed to go back to his after the dinner but he decided to go clubbing and I ended up getting a taxi back from my dinnerdance in a drunken state again. Last nights drinking didn't quite have the same effect as the night before. While the night before I was able to distract myself and for a few hours block out that fucking ache in my chest (yes, its still there) last night I felt worse and worse with every shot of vodka or whiskey, glass of wine or martini and whatever else I drank.
I want him back, this is stupid. He will realise soon enough.
Today I am hunover and very ill. My nose is blocked, I have acquired a cough which sounds like death and I generally feel like a beaten corpse. Whenever we were ill, we would get KFC and sit in like fat american kids, watching shitty films and eating. Over.
I watched Sophie's Choice, an absolutely phenomenal film, where Meryl Streep could not be any better as Sophie. There is a scene where a boy tells her "I promise I will never leave you." And she just stares at him for a while and says "I don't want you to promise that. No one should ever promise that."
How right she is.

I am going to go and do what any experienced hungover person does - hunt for more alcohol. The best hangover cure - to carry on drinking.
He's seeing her tonight, while I lose my voice and cough my lungs out alone, in this flat.

I love him, thats straightforward enough. But why?