I saw it coming. Wearing a borrowed hoodie. The slow descent through sloshing litres of beer, then a brisk, painless fall down a bottle of cheap wine. Roll in a group down the main road, across to the river for no reason and the back to a historical pub turned modern monstrosity. Multiple levels of backs to walls and an epileptic top 40 dance floor.
The lights. Familiar faces. Girls playing pick-up, but shy. No more beer, but it's already in my hand.
A urinal where you piss on the window, looking out into the beer garden. A round batch of basins for washing your hands or ignoring. One is filled, almost to the brim, with deep green vomit. The water in the others doesn't want to run.
A friend is crying. I want to comfort her, but I feel like I haven't spoken for hours and don't think the words will come out.
The lights. Familiar faces. Girls playing pick-up, but shy. No more beer, but it's already in my hand.
A urinal where you piss on the window, looking out into the beer garden. A round batch of basins for washing your hands or ignoring. One is filled, almost to the brim, with deep green vomit. The water in the others doesn't want to run.
A friend is crying. I want to comfort her, but I feel like I haven't spoken for hours and don't think the words will come out.
I like your journal entry very much.
nuckinya