Have you ever felt the need to do something absolutely insane, something no one would ever associate with your name? Being the good girl all the time absolutely sucked. I kept telling myself over and over that being a good girl was no fun at all, wanting desperately to get out of this place while I still had time.
My parents were strict. Too strict in the sense that I was somewhat of a prisoner to my house, unable to ever obtain freedom to what I viewed as a jail. And there I was in the doorway to the front door, 21 minutes till midnight and 21 minutes to a new year, wanting to sneak out of the house to do something. Maybe something drastic and bad, but perhaps something that made me feel good and happy again, even if for a short period of time because for me, happiness was so rare. Maybe slightly okay enough to feel like I was good enough in a world built to destroy self confidence. Specifically, my delicate self confidence lingering on the border of none at all and a few strands dangling dangerously, about to break off onto a dark abyss of unknown that seemed so foreign and frightening to me. I wanted to do anything than sit at home, counting down the seconds till it struck 12 while the rest of my class was out partying and drinking at Shannon's party, a party I wasn't allowed to go to. Then again, I was a good girl. Why would I ever show up there?
And all I wanted at that moment was for that dangerous rush to the head that made me dizzy and insanely happy to come back, not just cause I was bored, but because it was such an amazing feeling when I felt like I stood at the edge of world, above everything and invincible. If only I was 21 and invincible. The last and first time I've had that rush of blood to the head was such a long time ago I couldn't even remember anything but a blur of happiness. I stood there in the doorway after all my friends had left to go home with their 12 a.m. curfew wondering where all the time had gone. Another year. Another era. Another different type of depression in the future.
I took a deep breath after a long night of tedious small talks with a couple friends I had over at my house and let my eyes wonder over to my dad's liquor cabinet. Did I dare? Daring was overrated. Just do it, right? I thought of the lonely night ahead, alone and awake till early in the morning and thought- fuck it. So I caught my breath and walked towards it, wondering who I was. I opened the cabinet, scanning the bottles before I spotted a medium sized bottle of vodka and with a shaking hand and head, I took it. Just like that. It's funny how easy it is for something to go horribly wrong with your life without you noticing, yet at that moment, my head was spinning so fast I didn't have time to think.
I got up with a head rush, the colors around the dark room spinning in my vision as I tiptoed upstairs to my room, hoping and wanting desperately to get drunk and forget, even for a mere second. I closed the door and locked it as the house stood silent against my screaming head as it yelled, over and over, that this was a bad idea, a horrible way to lose yourself. I grabbed my ipod from my desk, turning it all the way up so the music was blasting my ears and with a deep breath, slowly twisted off the top. The smell was strong, inundating my senses and just like that, I lost a part of myself as I started chugging the vodka as it stung my throat, never feeling so good or high then at that moment when everything around me stood still but myself. My mind was spinning, my head singing along with Taking Back Sunday while I danced around in my bra and undies, absolutely smashed and never feeling better in my entire life.
Is that what you call a getaway?
Fuck you Brand new. Fuck you. This was my getaway, even for the moment, even with the consequences lingering over my head. I didn't care. That was the beauty of getting so drunk you couldn't even see straight. You didn't care about anything. Not when you felt so numb and the world looked and even felt blurry and unseen, almost like naivety had been breathed back into life itself.
I was saved by grace but destroyed but naivety
That was me, wasn't it? The girl who's dancing could get her anywhere, even Juilliard. And of course, when I fell, it would be gracefully. That was me. I remembered my naivety about the world and life, until the day my world crashed down and a little girl was forced to grow up into a woman. Sounds so cliché, a theme that would belong in a Britney Spears song, but that was my life. And here I was, finally grown up, the naivety that destroyed me gone and the grace that saved me also gone. Where was I now? Flat out drunk on New Years Eve.
And I lied to my self and said it was for the best
What the fuck was up with all these emo bands playing song after song on my ipod with lyrics that seem to be imitating me? This is for the best. I felt good. Numb. High on life and alcohol as the dangerous rush to my head seem to be ongoing, over and over as I felt so naughty and good at the same time. This was what the bad side was like, wasn't it? This was for the best. I forgot about everything, even myself, and all was okay for a moment.
So drink up baby doll
Fuck yes. My head was slowly becoming a slight dead weight on my shoulders as my wishful thinking eventually started slowing down. How ironic. Even drunk I couldn't get away from my own thoughts, even if I didn't care about a single thing now then wanting that black null where I could feel nothing, see nothing, think nothing.
Through my drunken stupor I could hear firework being shot outside as my eyes drifted towards my watch. 1 minute till New Years. What a great start.
I could feel my heart slow down with time. My head hurt like fuck as I slowly counted down in my head.
Excuse me, too busy you're writing your tragedy
Oh what a tragedy. A girl whose life went horribly wrong somewhere along the timeline between girl and adulthood. Maybe I was too busy writing my own tragedy to stop and look around the world. Maybe I was just a selfish bitch, only worrying about myself. But when you go through the things I've seen and felt, a part of you has to be selfish to not get hurt again. That was my life. Avoiding hurt, yet ironically hurt always showed its face everywhere I went.
Cause there's beauty in the breakdown
Was this a breakdown? My first time getting drunk, alone with my thoughts and fucking songs with lyrics that seem to break through my alcoholic blur. Where was the beauty then?
Oh it's amazing here
This was suppose to be amazing? Granted I was numb and didn't give a fuck about anything, but I felt no starterling realizations or insightful thoughts. I was happy though, dancing around with the vodka bottle in my hand. Maybe this was my fucked up version of amazing.
6 ... 5 ... 4 ... 3 ... 2 ...
They all blurred together now. Time seemed to speed up, even if it was only a couple mere seconds. My vision was worse than the time around me, the objects seemingly brighter than before and dancing to the music as I smiled and threw my head back to laugh. Dancing objects. How amusing indeed.
It's times like these when silence means everything
It was a new years and complete silence surround me, encumbering my worthless persona. The happiness seemed to drain out of me as I realized how alone I was. The silence was mocking me, laughing at the pathetic girl gazing at nothing as she realized really how empty she felt. Silence meant so many things at this moment- the loneliness in my heart, the innocence I lost so long ago, the naivety that destroyed me and most of all, the tears that started to slowly crawl down my cheeks. Then, the thing I wanted most of all, came. The black took over my vision slowly like the night creeping over the sunset as I warily collapsed onto my bed. The vodka bottle fell out of my hands, breaking the silence as I blacked out.
Happy New Years.