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Tuesday, 10 November 2020

My friend and foe

I feel the wind slapping against my face. My hair is in a mess but that's okay. We're at 120 kilometres per hour but my heart is racing even faster. The city lights loom overhead. They are so beautiful. I dance to the music in my head. I shout at the top of my lungs about just. how. awesome. this. is. The breeze. The speed. The pretty lights. The excitement. The alcohol in my blood. And you. Beautiful you.

But that's just today. Because tomorrow,

Who knows? I may be bawling my eyes out, and hitting my chest as though that would take the heavy, crushing feeling away. I may be hyperaware of what a mess I am; the feelings of despair heightened by Lewis Capaldi on loop. I may be screaming about just. how. terrible. this. is. The stale air that stifles me. My Sisyphean life. My grotesque reflection. The monotony. The alcohol in my blood. And you. Poor you.

But you know, one thing that's for sure is that I will wake up with a hangover tomorrow. 

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