I don’t like who I am drunk

Last night concluded the local marvel that is the Hastings Beer and Music Festival. An occasion held every year over a period of 3 days, showcasing an array of good music and beer. I cannot deny that I am not usually a beer drinker by choice, but I think I was partly converted last night or maybe I was just merry and too hot to care.


The Cavaliers closed their set with confetti and joy, and I was in a desperate need for another drink after thrusting my body around in an attempt to dance, consumed by the vast heat of perspiring bodies in a tent.


The night did not end when the music stopped. Continuing until the early hours of this morning; I had drunk far more than I intended, ending up on the curb outside my house trying to gain composure to not wake the sleeping.

I don’t like who I am when I am drunk. I am quickly converted into this demanding, grizzling-mess with a potty mouth and no inhibitions. The dire nature of modern society is, it was all recorded and posted on social media outlets, which makes me want to crawl into a hole and bury myself. There is no gruesome story of me having my stomach pumped or choking on my own vomit, or a tale that is so cringe-worthy that your toenails will curl up into little quavers. I just become the person I don’t want to be… outrageous and repenting in the morning.

I am well aware that when people are united in drunkenness, civility no longer exists. But as I sashay through Sunday with a hangover at work I think in future I’ll leave the wine in the fridge and my wine glass in the cabinet. I intend to give my liver a break along with my social media appearances, intoxicated.

Have fun out there,

Pipedream xx

 

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