My parents wouldn’t allow me to go to schoolies because I apparently had a “Drinking Problem”. So I started drinking at fourteen? That’s not too young. It’s better to get in early and get your tolerance up so you don’t make a fool of yourself later on (lie). So I basically moved out of home so I could get my drink on in peace and totally not because my parents kicked me out so they could have a computer room.

Some of my high school friends lived up the road from me in Taringa. They were a two minute walk away and I could not find there house if you put a gun to my head. When I went there to drink I got my sister or my brother to drive me, always with a 750ml bottle of Jack in my hands. Jack was my drink. I didn’t drink beer, I didn’t know shit about Vodka and wine was for girls and homeless people. One particular night I  turned up there for what was I think one of my friend’s birthdays. The memory escapes me now and for good reason.

So I turned up at this place with my booze and sat down at a shitty peeling metal table. I placed my Jack next to the bottle of incredibly terrible tasting Bundaberg Rum. One of my friends was already stinking drunk. This guy was such a lightweight that he would be carried away with the slightest booze smelling breeze. My other friends left to get indian food. They were gone for hours. My drunk friend got way past the stage of sensibility and decided it would be funny to lock me out by myself. With all the booze.

I don’t remember much past that. I had a terrible dream during the night while sleeping on a mattress next to my drunk friends bed. I dreamt that I really needed to piss so I rushed to the toilet. In the middle of the most relieving piss I  have ever had my friends grabbed me and shook me and yelled at me. I woke up at about midnight feeling horrible. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had done something wrong. Everyone was asleep. I was the drunkest I had ever been. I had drunk all the rum and all of the jack. I tried to find my way around the house. The rooms kept rearranging themselves. I tried to find the toilet. It was occupied. I banged on the door. Somebody yelled out “IT’S DOWN THE HALLWAY”

I couldn’t find it. I decided to leave. I somehow found my wallet and phone in the dark. I walked out of the house and down the street. I got to a bridge and stood there. Well I thought I stood. A flash of headlights and a beep from a horn and I realised I was standing in the middle of the road. I stumbled back to the footpath and held onto a sign for balance. I realised I was crying.

I called my sister and she came and picked me up. She tried to ask what was wrong but all she could get out of me was a drunken slur. We got back home and I fell back into a drunken sleep. The next morning I got a call from my friend. He asked if I was alright and where I went. He told me. Apparently during the middle of the night I had got up out of bed. Walked over to his desk, pulled the draw out onto the ground and pissed in it. Then they grabbed me and yelled at me and hosed me off. He apologised. I hung up the phone. Fucking hell.

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