I’m climbing, on the rise of my drunkenness, and all the while these Jack Daniel,whiskey shots are complimentary to this cold evening. It keeps me warm while I try to entertain myself on bleak, repetitive Friday nights like tonight. I’m also under the influence of a beautiful plant; the most recognized herb for its highs and lows. In the reality of it all, I’m cooking in the kitchen of this warm, comfortable home where I currently reside. Thanks to my boyfriend, everything is great. Except for the part where he’s not present.
I for one, am missing the person whom I am most connected to. Him. Maybe I’m just being a cry baby but I sulk at the thought that he’s not sitting at this kitchen table waiting for me to gather my cross-faded mind and finally being able to finish preparing our meal. Probably for the fourth or fifth time. I always tend to get sidetracked when I’m feeling groovy. But besides all of that, that’s not the point.
It’s the beginning of January and I start my year off alone. Restless. I can’t seem to wrap my head around this nostalgic feeling. Perhaps I’ve felt and been through this before. Deja vu maybe? No, that can’t be it.— I soundlessly thought to myself. I couldn’t put my finger on it. As spiritual as I am I feel like this is something more simply, maddening, like a curse. It is possible that I am being a tad bit dramatic, but how is it so, that I tend to find my self in similar situations, at certain key points in the year, every year since I was a little kid and could remember.
I guess I just wasn’t accustom to being right, since I was wrong 50% of the time. I traveled back to my room as I flexed my conspiring thoughts about the patterns and synchronizations of my uneventful but at the same time very eventful life. Sometimes I get ahead of myself and it gets to be too much so I began to pour myself another shot to ease my mind.
Sitting criss crossed and intoxicated on the brown, memory filled carpet, I nuzzled the Dia de los muertos themed shot glass full of liquid gold. I took a deep breath and before I shot the liquid fire back into the pits of my throat and stomach I mumble apathetically under my breath , So much for bad luck.