Why my diet coke wasn’t strong enough [and why I’ll hate myself in the morning]

For those of you who read the title and expected a “I got so wasted last night” story, you are sure to be disappointed. In fact, the point of this story, or one of them anyway, is that I didn’t get wasted.

I guess I should start by saying this was not a good day. I woke up late, had a headache and cramps, rode a stuffy, overcrowded bus to a class where I had to take a quiz in a language that is not my native tongue, found out that I had forgotten about [and thus gotten a zero on] three assignments for the same foreign language class, realized I had at least nine hours of homework left for one class [from this point on referred to as the class of deepest evil] that is due in two days, realized I had twice as much to do in another class as I thought I did, my friend from high school came over [which was nice, but stressful], and I had to go to a party.

Firstly, my friend from high school is not someone I hang out with often. She parties a little harder than I do, and she’s a little older, and I always find myself trying to impress her. I made dinner, which stressed me out amid the rush of homework, and she came over to eat. We always get to chatting, and, being the very open person that I am, I over share. I don’t know if it’s that I don’t like being an open book or that I don’t like sharing everything with her at some times and nothing with her at others, but it left a twisty feeling in my stomach.

And then there was this party, where my diet coke was just not strong enough to make my day okay.

I don’t say this because I support drinking after a long day, because really, I don’t think alcohol is the way to go for emotional support. I say this, because I was a baby at this party. A baby. I had one of those freshman flashback moments where my eyes got all big and my heart fluttered and I’m sure I sounded like I was about twelve, looking around saying, “is everybody drinking?” [They were.]

There were girls from my work and their friends everywhere in this fairly small apartment, and it was warm, and there were wine bottles, not everywhere, but around.

And if the diet coke I clutched in my hand throughout most of the night had been a little stronger maybe I wouldn’t have been quite so awkward and freshman-esque.

If anyone who actually went to this party reads this, or for those of you who care, don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed myself, really, but I left feeling thoroughly and emotionally drained.

I am sure [even though deep down a shred of self-confidence contradicts me] that no one at that party really needed me there. All of three people knew my name, and I sat, gawky, like a geek at cheer tryouts, feeling blessed whenever anyone shot a sympathetic glance my way.

I did chat a bit, mingle, talk to some of the girls that I knew a little. It was pretty casual, which helped, and I did know a few of the girls. It was fun, but I’m just so tired.

Which, now that I mention it, is why I will hate myself in the morning. Because it’s 1:30 in the morning, I have to be awake in 6 hours, and I’m blogging. *sigh*

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