I go to sleep, sometimes drunk, sometimes not. Every time in a bad mood, I reassure myself that when I wake up it will be a new day, I will have one more chance to have a good day and not be weighed down by any worries, troubles or concerns. Every time I lie to myself to keep me happy. Every morning is the same, I wake up neutral, not happy or unhappy but something will happen, at some point, to ruin this as opposed to make it better. There are only so many times I can repeat it before I run out of chances. Game Over. No more credits. Please Insert Coin(s). Something must be done about this.
“You look like voldemort before his hair fell out” The first words I heard today, because apparently my hangovers are ten times worse than everyone elses in my halls. As well as this my leg bled all over my bed, apparently I tried to carry a door upstairs and it landed on me, I need to get a grip and stop being a child, I’m 20. Fuck.
Now it’s seldom any more than once or twice a month and I’m grateful for it. My dreams aren’t the lovely, flying, gracious dreams. Mine are the ones that make you feel like you’ve been hit by a fucking train and had a bucket of water thrown over you just for good measure. I think it’s because I’m not afraid any more, I’m not avoiding the future, I’m embracing it. I can’t wait to see where this ends up.