Going home alone from work, same as always. But except this time, I could not walk well, my mind was also not well, I smell awful, I'm pretty sure that I'm drunk. Again.
How contradictory. Back then, I really wanted to live alone so bad. Wanted to taste freedom, to taste independence and be my own self, and be, well, with my own. But now, the world just keeps on saying to go back.
"Should I?" I stopped in the middle of the hallway then I got this "wondering" look for a second while I stared in the blank open air. "I don't know." I said then giggled and walked on through the hallway.
Then my mind was lost, I just felt like my soul was floating but my body felt so heavy. Then I felt something hit my waist. "Boom!" A thud followed "Ah! I'm so sorry!" I yelled to the luggage that I hit that was laying on the floor.
Then I felt so guilty so I fixed the situation. "Is this really how kind you can get?" I thought as I turn the doorknob. Then it wouldn't open. "Ugh... It's locked." I said to myself then squatted on the floor to reach for the key under the doormat like a real, wasted, messy, 26 year old would do.
I laid on the ground then let out a groan "Urgh, what happened to me?" I asked then I stared into the light that was right above my door.
I felt so tired. Then suddenly, it hit me. "You fucked up. Big time." I mumbled to myself while I was still laying down.