Andy
My mouth felt like it was filled with cotton, extremely dry and hard to swallow, my head was pounding, and I knew if I moved too quickly, I risked throwing up all over my bed. I don't even remember how I got home; the last thing I recall is playing my winning hand and then throwing back shots of whiskey like they were water.
Drunk me is my worst enemy; he does this to me so often, not giving two shits that I'll be the one dealing with the hangover that follows. Why do I do this to myself? Every time I swear I'll just stick to beer, but once the spirits come out, I'm betraying my own word and lapping them up. Well, at least this time I haven't done anything that I'm going to have to make amends for, waking up in bed alone is a good sign of that.
The sweet scent of cupcakes floats
