The End of the world

I awoke around mid-day. White light. Agony.

I buried my head deep into the pillow, unfortunately this gave no reprieve to the pain. My mouth was dry, I could almost chew what little spit remained there. I made a move to gradually sit up, which took all of my conviction. I looked around the room to see bodies strew everywhere, lifeless. I struggled to my feet and moved passed this room of the dead that surrounded me.

Blank.

What was happening?

I couldn’t piece together the sequence of events.

I padded to the bathroom and sat down, realised I didn’t need to go to the toilet. I closed the lid, put on the light which revealed a sunken eyed figure lurking in the mirror. I gazed into his eyes for what seemed like a lifetime. He was unmoving, judging. I broke his stare when I become conscious of the sweat that was all over me, I needed to vomit, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, I placed my head between my knees hoping for this horror to end.

I must have fell asleep because when I awoke my head was throbbing and someone was beating at the door. I flushed for courtesies sake and ran the tap even though I had nothing to clean. When I unlocked the door an unfamiliar figure burst in before I had chance to move away from the door. I cursed and moved through the now open gap, avoiding the gaze of the monster who had just troubled me. I moved down the hallway and went to the kitchen where signs off life greeted me.

“You should have seen yourself last night!”
“Me? You were the one shouting at anything wearing a skirt!!”
“Bollocks! you weren’t even looking for a skirt, anything would do!””

I couldn’t gather what the conversation was about, I just needed water. I ran the tap for a while waiting for the water to get cold, filled my glass that was soiled with a dark stain and then splashed the running tap water on my face. After I had drank far too much and felt sick all over again I moved towards the noise.

I found two of my friends gripping cider bottles and arguing over the nights events. At this point memory, although faded, corrected my confusion.

We had thrown a party, more accurately, I had thrown one. This was my house and these people, my friends, were still enjoying themselves. When my figure emerged in the doorway the two people in conversation greeted me with what could only be seen as jeers, but you haven’t got my friends.

“Jesus, look at you”
“I'm surprised you woke up at all after last night”
“You look awful”

I smiled, laughed and shrugged as if to say everything is fine, it was a good night. Although I could barely remember a moment of the evening, I knew my part was to play along with all the apparent debauchery that had gone on. I decided to enter the conversation.

“So boys” I took a moment to shudder at my opening line, why was I speaking like this? It didn’t feel like me to say this, yet I did. This couldn’t be my life.

“So boys” I repeated “Did I make a dick of myself last night?”
“No more than usual, but there will definitely be some pictures of you on the internet that you wont be proud of”
“Like what?” I asked, even though I didn’t care about the answer, my mind was elsewhere.
“Well, how about you with a yard of ale hanging from your mouth and then throwing up in the garden”
“Or” the second person chimed “you all over Robbie’s girlfriend”

I felt a well of disappointment wash over me. These people were definitely talking about me, flashes of my actions passed through my mind. But all of them seemed more like an out of body experience than actually me. I always felt I was worth more, but what the tape of my memory was playing was not worthy of that at all, not a fragment. I feigned laughter and returned to my room, forgetting the sea of limbs sprawled everywhere. My chest felt tight, like I was trapped in a room with no chance of freedom. In fact, I was trapped in a room with no chance of freedom. This was supposed to be my room, my sanctuary. I got into my bed hoping that the worst was behind me.

When I came too my room was empty. My headache was gone. I got up, dressed in a fresh set of clothes, realising I should probably have a shower. Regardless I went to get some more water; the kitchen was silent, no banter, no noise. The stillness was strange, the ill ease I felt at all the activity and presence earlier in the day had left me. I now wanted someone to be here. I felt desperate, the same shortness of breath I had felt earlier returned, but this time anxiety was joining in. I walked from room to room to discover nothing.

Empty.

The events couldn’t process in my mind. I still had the feeling of too much company on my mind. Yet here I was searching for any sign of life. I needed someone where no one was to be found.

I sat down amongst the rubble of the previous night and felt hollow, unconnected. Everyone had gone away into their lives, their own activities and I remined, no different from the cigarette butts and disposed cans that surrounded me. I phoned several numbers in my phone, no one answered. They must have had their fill. A good night lives long in the memory but someone left behind is nothing more than a footnote.

It was at this moment I saw to my left hand a half empty bottle of whiskey. And on a shelf to my right was a packet of headache tablets. This made sense. Why go on in the moment, I was unhappy with company. Unhappier still on my own.

For hours I stared at the floor, faces moved and played with my eyes in the carpet. I moved to the stereo and put on a song that made me both happy and sad. I emptied the tablets into my hand and looked at my ruin, my salvation. I moved them into my mouth with a steady hand. For once their was no doubt. Only ease, control.

The whiskey followed. Too late now anyway.

I was not worried.

Of all the last things I was to do in my life I made a playlist of songs. Sat down and listened to song after song as I became drowsy. In what will now be my lasting memory the stereo played.

All I want in life is a little bit of…

The End.