Sarcasm Central

From Angst – Dirty Drunk

Dirty Drunk Betch...

Dirty Drunk Betch…

Okay all you hoes and d-bags…this bitch is giving you a lil holiday gift…enjoy a small snippet from my novel!  More of this shiz-nit to come….

When I walk out of class at 8:00 pm I make a detour to the bathroom and pull my ever present water bottle from my backpack.  The disguised vodka is a necessity now whenever I feel tense as long as my supply holds out, which of course it can’t possibly do.  I wish it was a sure thing but I know my work connection is not something that will last, plus I can’t ask him too much without annoying the shit out of him.  But for now I’m on easy street, staring into the mirror at dead blood shot eyes surrounded by dark smoldering eye make-up, red lips and dark hair.  I take a huge swig and then another and another until the world starts to feel a little less solid and a lot more fuzzy.

For some reason I’m looking good right now, strung out, some kind of dangerous, self-destructive sex-slut just a week off her 10 day antibiotics for her fucking awesome STD, drowning her fears with her confidence juice.  I look away, not wanting to stare into my own eyes in the mirror because I know what I’ll see.  Hatred, self-hatred of what I’ve become, of what I’ve let happen to me.  Drinking at the wrong times, drinking to drown out the panic.  I take another swill and smile to myself, more of a grimace than a smile and then throw the bottle into my bag, pop a piece of gum in my mouth and am out the door and down the narrow hallways of the PCAC, heading toward the back and the path that curves up toward the Library.

God damnI’m on my way down, sliding toward breakdown and on my way up at the same time, some kind of clinging, desperate, frenzy happiness. 

As I turn a corner, I’m suddenly startled in the hallway by a tall dark figure in a hooded sweatshirt, jeans and a baseball hat, leaning casually against the wall, hands in pockets.  My heart starts to slam, red hot as I recognize him, even in the dim light, but I pretend that I don’t, passing him by with a tiny sideways glance, his eyes on mine.

“Hi,” I say, as I pass, turning my gaze straight ahead.

“Hi, sexy,” he says in a low voice, reaching out at the last moment to grab my fingers and pull me up against his hard chest.  And then before I know what’s happening, he’s kissing me, his warm firm mouth pressed against mine, one arm curved around my neck, the other around my waist and I kiss him back, pushing him up against the wall, threading my fingers behind his neck.

This is how we are together.  He surprises me in the halls, other places on campus, waiting for me to get out of class so we can go back to his place and fool around.   And I do the same, showing up at the library or the dining hall, pulling him away from whatever he’s working on.  It’s irresistible, electric.  We can’t seem to stop.

About Victoria Sawyer (283 Articles)
Victoria Sawyer is a blogger, author, graphic designer, social media enthusiast and mental health advocate. Shocking, honest, sarcastic and humorous, Victoria aims to make readers feel tangible emotions and physical sensations through writing that brings you into the mind and body of someone suffering from panic attacks, anxiety and this strange often darkly hilarious thing we call life. She published her novel Angst in 2013, which realistically and often graphically depicts life with mental illness. Along with crazy blogging, Victoria enjoys reading historical novels, playing with her naughty cats, engaging in rants and metaphysical existential meltdowns and using punctuation to excess in everything she writes.

Step right up, it's about to get crazy in the hizzy

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