Today, I had coffee with a guy I dated for a total of.. 5 days? The day I met him, I was up for 3-no, 4 nights. We talked online for hours, long enough for me to find the dysfunction and chase it down. Sleep wasn't going to come soon and the indentation of reality was about to start pressing in. I wasn't ready for it. I pulled out my recently worn short dress. It covered both ass cheeks and then stopped. I took out my black wedges. They still felt warm. I pounded on the makeup, trying to cover up my mistakes with foundation and eyeliner. For a moment, it worked. My eyelids were heavy, weighted from too much eye shadow and not enough sleep but still, I wasn't ready to stop. I thought I looked great. There were no nerves, only exhaustion and desperation for the next taste of better. He picked me up and we went to my usual bar with the usual people where I had my usual drink. Just like the others, I asked, "Have you ever drank with an Indian?" He looked at me, almost scared and shook his head. I told him to take out his wallet. We talked and talked and talked about nothing. Mostly, I drank and drank and drank and drank. He seemed impressed. I told him this was normal. He sat on the uncomfortable stool, waiting for a good time. I sat on the same stool I always sat on, reaching for recklessness. I wonder when he found out. We went back to my place and sat at the table. I opened the bottle that I urged him to buy before he even picked me up. We sat at that table for.. hours? The familiar black I hoped for was finally rolling in. We talked more.. or.. I talked.. about absolutely nothing. But mostly, I drank. I looked down and led him to my bedroom, knowing it was time to pay for my drinks. I wished my blackout would spread farther for this next act. It did, for the most part. Until this point, I thought tonight was like any other drunken night.. but it wasn't. For whatever reason, I stopped everything and sat on the floor. The next moment is hard to describe. Something so powerful broke through my drunken, meth-induced, sleep deprived state and even made its way to the present. More than that, I can still feel it. I wondered how I got on the floor but then I realized I had been in a black out. I was having the all too familiar feeling of "coming to". I was half-naked and holding a cigarette near my window. I started talking and this time, it wasn't about nothing. It was something I didn't recognize. It was me. It was as if all of my decisions surrounded me.. powerful enough to draw me back into consciousness. I realized there was no higher and no drunker than this moment and it terrified me. I told him that he didn't want me and that I was sorry. I told him I had been up for days. The words, "I'm a mess, I'm a mess, I'm a mess" kept pouring out. No other words felt more right. He just sat there and stroked my face.. telling me to look at him, not understanding what was going on. His eyes burned intensely and I found them comforting. The same eyes looked at me today but they were different. They were only a reminder of my mistakes. I kept moving his hand, not wanting this stranger to touch me. After that, my blackout blanket tucked me in and kissed me goodnight. The next day, he reminded me of everything but he really didn't have to. I already knew what happened even without the memory to tell me. Blackouts have always just been more convenient. I didn't care to piece together the minutes where I wasn't there-I preferred not to. I wanted to know what happened in my lucidity. Today, I figured it out. For a brief moment, sitting on my bedroom floor with a man I barely knew.. I found my reflection.
Today was not about having coffee with a guy I hardly dated. Today, I was reminded of where I've been and the mess I don't have to be anymore.
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