The Bad Memories From Last Cold Night.

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Can you think of something so simple in life that has given you so much memories? For me, it’s those winter nights that you think might turn out not so good but actually turn into lasting memories! This was one of those nights, on a whim. The wind drafted through the old house perched at the hill’s summit. Surrounding trees lost leaves to the harsh gusts; all forms of life scattered for shelter. The sky was ready to cry, filled with gray clouds that engulfed all of Mt Kenya Forrest. The hills that once basked in sunlight looked as if they could now touch the low skyline. But wait a minute, can I carry myself to the washroom, have I had one too many, trying to kill the night out. Every few minutes I entered a state of unconsciousness, am awoken by violent shrieks of storms ranging in the city.

A cry of anguish rang out, bringing me to full attention. My legs feel heavy and I want to go home. My buttocks are numb, and I want to go home. The toxic substance is pulsing through my brain, and I want to go home. I wonder if anyone’s ever overdosed. It seems unlikely but not impossible. I’ve been sitting on this corner for over 3 hours, trying to sober up, and I want to go home. People still shuffling in and out of the house from where I’d just come, still trying to reach the mystical bus stop. Everyone is chasing the light of the buses while hanging out in the dark. Everyone on the same mythical conquest of substance, trying to get it without letting it get you. It is not funny anymore that we all go out and push, push, push to get to the point that I’m at now, and then all we want is to go back down, we tend to walk backwards down that hill so we can get back to the familiar ground.

I vaguely remember calling a taxi a few hours ago but hadn’t been able to convince myself that it was time to go, it was time to stop doing shots, time to quit doing lines in the bathroom; but I’d missed my chance. I’d probably missed my only chance to get back to the only place I wanted to be right now. Safe and warm, curled up on my bathroom floor. I hear car doors opening and closing. I hear engines starting and revving away and numb legs can’t control the peddle unless till it’s on the floor. Why am I not friends with those people and why am I not leaving with them? Lying down might be a good idea, the spins have taken hold and mixed with the taste of what must have been awesome a few hours back and whatever I’d been drinking in there, it all begins to blur.

We all tell ourselves while we’re punishing our bodies to free our minds that it will be a good story, it will be something that will make our friends laugh, regardless of how awful the things we did were to get it. Right now, I cannot care for my friends or change what they’re going to say when I tell them about how awful I feel. I am focused too hard on not black-out a rear phenomena experienced by first timers. The house behind me is still full of people. I wonder if they’re ever going to stop. The sun will come up soon. It has to. I wonder if that’s the signal everyone inside is waiting for. The sun is up, we have to leave now.

I sit up because my back is soaking wet. The cold had felt good when I first laid down in it, now it was just another reason I needed to leave. I try to stand but decide it’s a bad idea and sit back down.Staying inside may have been the bitter option for me but the better. Thinking about it now I don’t know why I came out here. Did I think that if I just came out and sat down that somehow, through some sort of magic, someone would come and take me home? I can’t breathe all that well through my nose, it’s gotten worse as the night has worn on. The lines I had done with that girl in the bathroom weren’t helping my current situation. She led me in there holding my hand. I thought I was going to get laid. The reality of the situation was completely different. At the time it had all been about enjoying the night out, I was fine then. Barely drunk.

The house is surrounded by tall pines in all directions. I know this because when I wandered out to piss earlier I’d almost gotten lost on my way back in. It’s funny the details that don’t transfer over from sober to inebriated. My subconscious is trying to kill me, and I want to go home. I feel disconnected from everything, and I want to go home. The sky over the mountains is turning purple, the storm has filled the drains and left, cold darkness is giving way to light. The sun is making it’s way west. The lights on the fronts of the houses are fading, no longer the only thing providing light in the infinite darkness that is this night. I feel my stomach beginning to figure out that it’s only sifting through different types of drinks and maybe some jell-o from those terrible jell-o shots. I’m almost certain that it’s getting ready to break free of me and find a better owner.

The early cold morning is dead silent, I can barely hear the music anymore. May be the cops are making their final round the city I might be waking up in some police cells with ten other drunks standing around waiting to be released back into the wild. There’s no sound now. There is nothing I can see moving around me. I feel my eyelids begin to feel heavy. I want to sleep. I want to just sleep it off. I’ll wake up in a couple hours and be sober enough to get home. I’ll be sober enough to be able to know where I am. I just want to erase the memories off my head, I want to sleep

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