Blackout

“She had so much potential…”

That’s probably what my eulogy would say, I thought to myself as I lay in the fetal position wishing I were dead. Every inch of me hurt, both physically and emotionally. I wanted to cry but I felt so drained the tears just wouldn’t come out.

Why do I always do this to myself?

I wasn’t sure what day or time it was, but at this point I didn’t really care. Not like I had a job or responsibilities to tend to any time soon. The last few days had been a blur… Just the thought of trying to remember the sequence of events that had taken place made my brain hurt. The last thing I could remember was ripping rails to sober up in the bathroom of a sketchy after hours with my girlfriend from Montreal. I guess the whole cocaine-sobers-you-up theory doesn’t work every time.

My stomach growled. I was starving but couldn’t eat let alone gather enough energy or will power to make it to the kitchen. Even if I did, my fridge would probably be empty with the exception of my exquisite hot sauce collection and perhaps a leftover bottle of Jack Daniels - if I was lucky.

I’ve had bad comedowns before but this by far has got to be one of the worst. It makes me wonder if the high is even worth the come down after all... I hate this feeling more than anything. No one should ever have to feel this way. If I had to describe how I felt in one word I would probably say “death.” I felt like death. All the serotonin, vitamins, energy and life had been completely sucked out of my body till I was left laying here with nothing but the skin I’m in.

Honestly, I really am my own worst enemy. No one did this to me. I did this to myself. And I keep doing it to myself over and over again, every fucking weekend. It’s like I’ll never learn. I know I need to stop but I just don’t know how. Like, what do normal people even do for fun other than drinking and partying? I honestly can’t remember…

My mom says I need a hobby. I know she’s right, moms are always right about everything…. but what kind of hobby? When I was younger I used to love writing, drawing, painting, making my own comic books, creating something out of nothing and indulging in all kinds of DIY projects. I miss that version of me. I would do anything to have my childhood back, this time I would do things differently.

Lately, it’s like I can’t even recognize myself anymore, and I don’t mean physically. What I mean is that lately I keep finding myself in sketchy situations surrounded by shady people, doing things that a girl with my kind of upbringing and potential should never do. Like, who am I? I used to be so creative, so imaginative… I wonder where I went wrong.

(TO BE CONTINUED)