It was late when I push the door of my home. Maybe a little too much. I stop in the corridor that serves me input. Phew! Tonight I put on my moccasins. I shoeless an expert movement of the foot. Thing I could not do with my boots. These crap cost me an arm, and all for what? So I spent a quarter of an hour to put them on, and as much for me apart. Sometimes more, depending on the thickness of my blood. Able to return
alcoholic, I did not even bother to turn on the light. I throw my bag directly to the living room couch. Noise it emits cushioning its landing, I deduce that for once, I did not miss my target. The lamp that sits beside the sofa spend one more night.
I enter my room. Still in the dark most complete, I undress. The first layers collapse at the foot of my bed. I finished my support by sending m'éplucher bra in the approximate direction of the chair / coat rack. The rest - and it's no big thing - slipping down my legs and crashed to the ground limply. The bed
who handed me the sheets, is hosting my naked body of a grinding satisfaction. I'm back in it. The gentle caress of the fabric on my bare skin and calms me reference a few years back.
I was licensed. I agree with my boyfriend at a party Erasmus. Erasmus language student it means destruction of a livable place by a tribe of supernumerary students with a little blood in alcohol . It is also synonymous with binge alcoholic, and horrible hangover. This evening I had gone to explore a lexical fields declined in BAC levels. The memories I have are slightly diffuse, drowned in a green absinthe cheap. Liquid that had overwhelmed my companion, forced to leave the party without asking his left to avoid being sick to his beloved. I saw him run away. A condition that is considered to run, the fact of staggering quickly from side to side trying to go straight.
So I look up to pitch the way out. It is with some regret that I let slip. Anyway, I was well strapped him home, being myself in a terrible state. No sooner had I set foot at home that I had to run to the toilet. It was the first time I vomited from drinking too much. The spasms that shook my body to expel the poison green, I still feel.
I confessed to him a few weeks later that I too had been ill. Pride. And to preserve my image of little girl that I saw reflected in her eyes. In fact, it was not really an image. I was this little girl who had never tasted the delights of the flesh.
Colin Vettier
Post a comment to share your opinion with the author: they care! 
0 comments:
Post a Comment