I’d been feeling like shit. Mind you, it was my own fault. I’d try lamenting to my mum just how sick I felt but she merely said in that stern voice, “Suck it up, you were the one who drank so much.”
She was right of course. I had drunk too much. Last night and the night before and I think, the night before that, as well. I couldn’t remember. Every night tended to be the same after awhile and to tell the truth, what had started out as fun, was now making me feel that something was wrong.
I had a problem; not with alcohol. With relationships. More specifically, relationships with men.
I wanted to run away, but that had never solved anything before, so I guess I needed to stand and face the issue. I wasn’t quite sure how to do that. I knew what I wanted and what I didn’t want in a relationship, so maybe that was a starting point.
I wanted to feel refreshed. I wanted to feel as though I was beginning from scratch. I wanted things to be how they were before I’d met him; before I’d lost myself completely and turned into one of those clingy and worst of all, desperate-looking women.
But you can’t turn back time. You can only move forward. So that, was what I needed to do.