Beautiful Disaster (Project)

Last night started off beautifully. For starters she hadn't cried from her recent traumatizing break up which was quite an achievement considering that was how she had been normally spending her weekends. She drank an ice cold beer while she dolled and primped herself for the nights adventure. It had been a while since she had gone out this way. Her relationship had consumed every moment of her life. She wanted to wear the jeans she always wore and be comfy but decided she was feeling frisky and opted for the sexy skirt instead. She slipped on her 'special occasion' illegal leopard heels while silently praying for her feet asking God to give them strength, longevity and endurance for the hours ahead. She was filled with an excitement she almost forgot that she was even capable of feeling.

Undoubtedly, she absolutely missed nights like these. Nights where she took her sweet time getting ready. When every strand of hair landed perfectly around her face. Nights when her eyebrows matched in length and arc. When her foundation or mascara was neither clumpy or blotchy simply blended to perfection. Nights when she could leave her house with out the heavy burden of sanitary napkins. When she didn't have to drive and when she knew she wouldn't have to pay much either.

Protection in her clutch, lip gloss poppin', I.D. ready, she steps outside to smoke a cigarette while waiting for her comrades. Calmly exhaling her first drag feeling the smooth toxins relax her excitement as she imagines all the things they could and would get into. Reassuring herself that this is exactly what she needed.

All the rest she remembers in fragments like a movie reel with scenes snipped out every so often and then taped back together with the part missing always remaining a mystery. She knew they had stopped at the local sushi spot for Saki Bombs, Dragon Rolls, and her favorite Miso Soup. She knew they had went to a bar where a sucker for pretty girls on a highway of mayhem way out of his league bought them all drinks. They shared a few laughs and as a reward for his drinks her friend drug him to the middle of the dance floor jiving around him while he danced with his arms in the air like a drowning child with up syndrome.

They hopped in a cab that reeked of spices and body odor. They teased the cabby and asked him sexy questions he was way too shy to answer, gave him a tip and told him Target had Axe on sale. They stammer into their destination and that's where the next scene is cut. She flashes in and out of familiar settings. People, liquor, fancy girls, fancy furniture, fancy boys, couch, music, laughter, jokes, kitchen, beer, shots, bathroom, conversations with strangers, debates with friends, shoving, back yard smoke breaks, red wine, boys fighting, girls dancing, picture frames breaking, neighbor's yelling, snooping through bedrooms, taking pictures, falling down, removing shoes, snooping through fridge and back yard kisses!! She KISSED her friend! UGGHHHH!!! Embarrassing... She vows to pretend she doesn't remember that one.

Sitting on her bed she tries her hardest not to cry or cringe with shame. Although no one is around, she finds it hard to breathe in the presence of her sober mind. She seeks her memory desperately asking frantic questions; Did she dance with him? Did she really drink that much? Had she confessed her deepest secret to her closest sidekick? Did she do her famous 'dance'? The one that she is deeply embarrassed of, the one her friends never stop her from doing? How did she get home? Why is she alone? Did she really wipe her butt with their towels? She searches more deeply and more intensely.

Why do these things happen to her? Why the fuck won't she learn her lesson? How many times had she been at this same exact point of low? Her hangover is so fierce she can hardly get a grip on reality. As she ventures to the furthest part of her memories from last night she reaches for her phone. The part she had been dreading. She turns it on. She fishes for any incriminating evidence. Please, please, please don't let their be a text to him. Please tell me I didn't drunk text him she begs herself subconsciously already knowing the answer. Having seen in her phone what her heart already knew, she cries and solemnly swears to never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever drink like that again.