Drunk

I went clubbing the other day with some girls I wasn’t terribly close to. I gave my brash and outgoing man-eater side an airing out in the car ride to the club, but for some reason, things were different at the club.

I guess because two of the girls were under 21 so I didn’t want to drink too much in front of them. I didn’t get drunk at all, which is an unusual thing for me. I ended up being the only girl who didn’t dance with anyone, really marking me out as a prude. I was just so uncomfortable dancing with these random strangers. Maybe the fact that it was an 18+ club was why; I couldn’t get past the fact that the guy dry-humping me might be just barely not-jailbait.

At any rate, I knew it was because I wasn’t drunk enough.

Because when I’m drunk, I can pretend that the stranger is you. Even in my subconscious, your face is still there. When I’m drunk, I can pretend it’s you, the last person that I loved.

Fung kuang qu ai. In Chinese, that means love crazily.

I loved you crazily. I didn’t understand what was happening to me. It happened so unwittingly, so fast. I have never changed so much as the result of one person. I say I’m over you but the effects of loving you and being heart-broken because of you are still stamped all over me.

I saw pictures the other day of you with my closest friend in Singapore. Pictures of you and her (with some others) on three different occasions. Why were you there with her and her friends? Why was she there for your 25th birthday dinner? Why didn’t she tell me?

Why do I care anymore?

But it hurts me like crazy to think that you would want to be with her and not with me. It hurts me to think that you might be happy be together.

I want to get drunk this weekend and forget your face, but getting drunk does nothing but leave me another scar from you. Yet another unwitting scar scored by your casual affections and clumsy excuses.

I want to finally forget you. I don’t want to remember you anymore.