On my way to another party with booze in hand, hanging out with best friends whom I wouldn’t remember the next morning.


Walking the streets at night with my companions, laughing and joking as we smashed into each other with our unsteadiness – passing other groups trying to make their way home as well.


Working the tables at the restaurant, wooing the customers, filling my pockets with money to burn at the end of my busy shift.


Being pursued by a girl I was supposed to grad with, agreeing to go to her prom now as her date – a stranger from outside, disconnected from this community.


Parting ways at the dance, knowing that we were only using each other, her to make some other guy jealous – story of my life – and me to feel miserable about myself.


Stuffing a case of beer into every part of my clothing, up my sleeves, down my pant legs, wandering around the bush grad party drinking every one of those beer, tossing them to the side, until I passed out in some ditch waiting to die.


Waking up the next morning in the back seat of a 1972 volkswagen beetle, unclear how I got there with a pounding headache to keep me company.


Grabbing another beer from my fridge, cursing the air under my breath as I walked back to my bedroom past a group of friends that my roommate kept inviting over, noticing this girl in the crowd and wondering if she notices me.



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