This is not a normal hangover. This is a JESUS FUCKING CHRIST WHAT THE HELL HAVE I DONE type of hangover. Yesterday I told my boyfriend that I love him, so despite the dehydration, I should have woken up with enough dopamine to kill the remaining tequila in my bloodstream.
But I didn’t, because life doesn’t always go as planned.
And whilst we’re on the subject of planning, we might as well talk about Plan B, which I had to take because we had blackout sex… Am I being too whiny because he’s not here to hold me through the moral hangover and through the levonorgestrel rush?
That’s another thing in my bloodstream, it’s starting to sound like a not-so-appealing cocktail. Because it isn’t appealing, it’s kind of goddamn awful and I wish this would all just go away.
I do love him, which is why it scares me to death that he’s been avoiding my texts all day. I love him so steadily it feels like I might be emotionally normal. But if normal is “what follows the norm”, then that’s probably not what I should seek to be.
I know that I will feel better in time. I know moral hangovers, much like regular ones, need tending. I also know that they aren’t permanent. I’ve been around this track before, hell, I’ll be around it again. I just cannot fucking wait until I’m at the finish line of being consumed by an angry guilt monster. I need it to release my insides and let me BREATHE.
I’m fucking losing it. and in any case…
Have my ramblings. Have my heart. Have a nice day.