the night after the night before.

"Hangover - Nausea and headaches often caused by way too much fucking alcohol. Can be identified by the ashtray in ones mouth,the vomit on last nights clothes,the want to never drink or eat again,the great dislike of sunlight, the undesirealbe urge to apologise to all the people you spent the night with, the stranger in your bed and need for a glass of water and many many asprin" At least I am not the only one. 95% of alcohol consumer's suffer a hangover the morning after a night out on the town. Sounds like we're animals. In most cases, where a party and alcohol is involved; we are. My reflections of last night have changed due to the occasional flashbacks I have been getting the entire day. Lovely. I needed it. I had to forget about all of the shit and have a good time. The night did not begin well. I then, realised alcohol was probably not the answer, sitting at a bus stop for an hour desperately awaiting the well- needed party, proved to put me in the shittiest mood. I did not want to drink, party, dance, socialise. I wanted to be home, in bed, with my tea, writing about how shit my life is and how nothing ever goes right. Two hours later, I was bent down a sink, being sick and telling the world, many of which I had just met, that I would be okay, "if only I had more bread". Good ol' alcohol. I had a good night, when I wasn't being sick or sitting in a corner somewhere with my head in my knees. This morning, due to the lack of sleep, my hangover had not yet sunk in. This is the moment I always fear, as I know that as soon as my head eventually reaches a pillow, I would wake up, and that so called hangover?; would be hanging. Largely. I still have a headache, a night on. Looking through pictures sends flashbacks of the horrific things I probably did and said last night. My mouth and stomach still feels like an ocean with little water. And yet, I sit in my room, thinking about the tears that I have cried this week, the things I have dealt with, I look at the pictures from last night, think of my hangover and wish the banging would just stop, and then realise, that I love my life. And all the bad things that happen and that are thrown at me? Makes me, me. And I wouldn't have it any other way. Well, perhaps i'd like to have actually revised this easter or for my dad to come home and be okay, I'd have liked to be warned about being blown out twice by him, I'd have liked to have seen everything that has happened coming. But then, in the morning, whether you are suffering from a hangover or not, what would we think about? What would we regret? What would we learn? What would we laugh about? Or cry about? Or cringe at? Nothing. Because no "good deed" (in this case, this is getting absolutly tit-faced in order to forget all bad) goes unpunished or unseen. And sometimes, this can only be a good thing.