Beer, Broken Bones and a Bathroom

I awoke unpleasantly. Carefully and with trepidation I examined my surroundings.

The first thing I noticed as my eyes reluctantly opened, was the cold, porcelain toilet directly next to my head. I then realised that I was lying on my bathroom floor, (relieved to find it was not someone elses), and that I had indeed slept there most of the night, complete with a pillow and winter duna to off-set the cold bathroom tiles.

It's at this point in conciousness that you start to wonder what the fuck were you doing last night.

We all know that alcohol is a depressant, but to be honest I've chosen to ignore this fact for many many a drunken year. See I think we ignore this fact because indeed alcohol makes us feel so good. For awhile at least. You have a few drinks, get to that happy tipsy slightly louder than usual stage, and we think that everything is fine. And then we contine....cauz we're drunk and that's what you do when you're drunk, you drink more!

It's after about the 6th or 7th drink that things start to turn. People lose their inhabitions. They lose their guard, they become nasty and people take things to heart. Depression here I am, please come and take hold of my mind, I don't mind being suicidal, beer will protect me!

So, when I woke up on this sunny morning, feeling not so sunny, I began to feel the horrible pain of regret in the form of a hangover and a bruised hand. That night I was feeling miserable and very much alone, and instead of ignoring it like normal I decided to drink. Alone. Why is it when we know something is a very bad idea we decide to do it anyway? I'm inclined to think as people we are growing dumber by the minute. Maybe it's all the alcohol... So naturally I got very drunk very fast, which did not make me happy but rather angry. At what? I don't remember. But in my anger I thought that punching my bedroom wall 20 or so times would help. It didn't really. Just made my hand very very sore.

It was then that my lovely, and very patient boyfriend came over and put me to bed next to the toilet because I was afraid of puking everywhere. Not my finest moment...

That was a couple of weeks ago. I haven't had a drink since then. Life is less dramatic. What makes me sad about all of this is how much I'm struggling not to drink. It seems that drinking is everywhere! At home having dinner, everyone is drinking. Out at the pub, (well I can't really complain about that one), dinner at a mates, parties etc etc. When I ask certain friends to hang out, they suggest getting pissed. Why is it we have such a strong culture of drinking? And if you're not getting drunk with the rest of the crowd, how do you fit in?