i'll admit, before i was legal i frequented parties--but not extensively.  and while, yes, i did get drunk (only once or twice before 21 of course ) enough to still be drunk the next morning, i never passed out or blacked out from drinking, and i always made sure i was with friends i trusted, with a safe way home.

i had this idea about the type of people that drank alone--old, lonely, alcoholic, and just . . . lame.

i am none of those things.

but tonight i found myself drinking alone, and not just a single glass of wine--more like almost a full bottle of wine. in less then an hour. i'm not really sure how it happened.  i just kept pouring another glass and before i knew it i was feeling GREAT.  then came the inevitable period where i hadn't had a drink in a while and my happy buzz feeling turned into more of a slight headache feeling.  and with the headache came the reflective feeling. 

i am a confident, independent, and some days (i like to think)-a beautiful woman.  why the fuck am i drinking alone?

and then i realized that i was stereotyping.  and that as long as it isn't every night, drinking/getting drunk alone isn't a bad thing. in fact, i've been able to critically reflect on topics that i usually won't touch in my sober state--past hurts and present wounds that i'm normally uncomfortable even thinking about. 

i'm in no way advocating getting drunk, though that is what this entry seems to be focused on, it's really not about the alcohol. for me this experience was just an eyeopener of how my stereotypes not only affect the way i think of others, but also the way i think of myself.

so, thank you Asti. for helping me open my eyes and my mind to the fact that even i am guilty of stereotyping others, and more importantly, myself.  salute!

 

breathing in deeply,
your scent lingers on my sheets.
Trying to absorb the last bit of you
I steal away into sleep.

remembering the ease of your smile
the laughter that would shortly ensue,
the memories dear to my heart,
the memories only of you

I wonder as I lie in the darkness,
the silence engulfing my being
what is happening over in your world,
what visions you could possibly be seeing.

two different worlds we now live in
the distance between us may as well be forever
saying goodbye was not thought of as an option
now we may get to say it—never.

and yet, remembering the gleam in your eye,
the sly cock of one eyebrow and turn of the head
I know that goodbyes were not necessary
I shall remember you always instead.

 

***what is it about being in love that causes even the least artistic person to wax poetic?  what is it about love that makes us hurt to be alone? once we've had a taste of it, we crave it even more--like a drug, we are repulsed by our need of it, and yet we aren't satisfied till we find it yet again. And so i ask--what is it about love?***