wasted

drinking is pretty much one of my all-time favorite pastimes.
but getting the hangover sure hell isn't.

got home drunk.

mom: (uy, yaadi nama in. good morning!)
there you are. good morning!
me: (hubog ak)
i'm drunk.
mom: (asya oo)
so you are.
adopted little sister (there's really no reason to think she's adopted but i like to think that she is sometimes): (naano an im pakauli?)
how did you manage to get home?
me: (nganak hubog ak. diri bulok)
i said i'm drunk. not stupid.

and i put an end to the conversation, hang on to the banisters for dear life while climbing the stairs to the room where i spent what seemed like a lifetime and a year sleeping and not daring myself to wake up. because waking up was painful. i opened my eyes and i felt pain. a splitting headache. the room spinning. and the alcohol i pleasantly consumed the night before threatening to high tide up my throat. so fuck you tequila. and you too vodka. and who would forget you, gin. it's hangovers like this that don't make me want to wake up another day. only i will be waking up tomorrow, because we have another session of drinking scheduled.

and as they say, history does repeat itself.