For part one – click here.


I woke up with a very, very bad headache.

I cursed my self, my foolishness, the bartenders who had served me, my new friends who seemed to have nothing else in the world to do except drink, my ex – husband for not being an asshole and making me feel guilty for breaking off my marriage, my ex – boyfriend who was an asshole and my ex – ex boyfriend who was the love of my life and had never reciprocated my love…

Yeah, it was a pretty long list and that was just the beginning.

I walked over to the kitchen and opened the fridge. No water, as expected. Beer. Tons of it. And some old bread. And oh – milk.

I scratched my head. When the hell did I buy milk? I looked at the milk carton, trying to fathom how something healthy had made its way into my fridge.

I checked the expiry date to make sure it wasn’t outdated like…you know…my misery and took a swig. After I downed half a carton, I realised I was feeling nauseous so I rushed to the bathroom to you know…puke my guts out.

A couple of weeks ago, Cheryl my ex – bestie would have been there, holding my hair back as she always did.

But we’d had a fight.

She’d told me to ‘get over my self’ and ‘stop whining’ and ‘life sucks, accept it and move on’. While she might have been right, I wasn’t in the mood to hear what I already knew so I just walked out of my house…yeah I know – what is it with me walking out of my house you know….good I have two of them….

So! I walked, in my usual buzzed state to my other house…this one actually…and since then I’d avoided contact with any familiar faces for fear of pissing them off.

Yeah, I know I sound like a loser but you know what? I don’t care.

I was pissed and hurt and angry and I wanted to fucking dwell on my misery and feel sorry for my self till there was nothing else to do except move on. I wasn’t ready to move on quite yet.

It was 12 PM. Great. I could go over to Joey’s Pizza for you know…pizza and then by 2 PM Happy Hours would start at Fatboy’s cafe which was my new haunt and I was sure I’d find a couple of my new alcoholic friends to spend time with.

Come to think of it, life wasn’t that bad. I mean – look at me. I was young, attractive, rich, I could eat a million carbs and never put on weight, I could make friends wherever I went…yeah…life was good.

I brushed my teeth, washed my face, rolled my hair into a bun, put on my sunglasses, my jeans and a new linen shirt and breezed out of my house into the God – Damn sunlight.

It felt good to be alive.


To be continued

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