On the Fourth, the sparklers lit around me and I was happy.
On the Fifth, I dashed down the stairs, out of the loft, into a heat so sure it felt permanent. Like I might feel this way forever, I might be this hot always. Forever, the sun lights up my skin.
The car was unlocked so I got in and waited for the Other Two to come down and drive me home. 8:30 AM on the 5th of July is an ugly, ugly place.
The ride home was the ride home: Gen was still drunk and Meghan was driving so I mostly told my story of the night before and we exchanged words--OMG, I can’t believe that happened, that’s crazy, I love the Fourth, God Bless Peach Vodka and Sweet Tea!.
When I got home I went straight to bed and stayed there for a good, long time. My head filled with simple, self-loathing. I fought with my parents, but only inside my head. I listened to the sad songs, but not aloud. I wallowed for hours and felt bad for wallowing and why am I not stronger? I typed and typed and called myself stupid because I am and when will I grow up?
The hangovers hit me worse than they used to. (Is this adulthood?) I am so often depressed the morning after. Alcohol burns. Even if the night before was bliss, the morning after I want to literally die.
It’s not good for me anymore, I realized on July 5, 2010. I am not going to stop drinking but I am going to feel through the days and realize when I should and should not take a sip.
Because self-awareness is all I have. Because getting to the root of my problems is the only choice I have if I want to live healthily.
No one said living with a disease is easy. No one said life is easy. But if I want to live forever—oh, how I want to live forever—I will do a better job of keeping sane.
I will be better. Forever.