Hik!

I was a lousy drunk. And please take note of the past tense.

I turned the world of those who got into my way, upside down. I forgot about decorum, silent hours, and tomorrow's assignments. I was loud, mischievous, and unpredictable. Worst...and the one that defined my lousiness... is the karate chop that landed on someone's neck, back, or face. I bite, too. Alcohol not only loosened my joints, it turned them into explorers. They found body parts (not mine) and execute something that causes "araguy!". The little sanity left on me said, "peace," but the limbs were up for war.

I didn't mean any harm, but "playfulness" without sobriety is a disaster. It's a warning sign to my drinking buddies, friends who cared enough to pick me up, or those who cared enough to stay with me until I fell asleep and released the world from my grip.

Despite all that, everything was fun - drunk or post-drunk. I had little sense of how it affects people. Or I could be in denial. After all, what you don't know doesn't hurt you. I did the drinking for fun. I most especially invoke the 'spirit' when celebrating or when plain happy about my day.

I was not an alcoholic - I'm too broke to feed the vice. I didn't drink every day, too. Nor too often to ruin my liver. But quantity does not make a lousy drunk. It was the behavior after having too much 'bad spirit' inside your system.

Of course, I also drink when angry or frustrated - emotions that always come by from being young, impressionable, and foolish.

I didn't regret drinking and getting drunk. I'm not proud of it either. When friends remind me of it...I wonder how they must have took it at that time. I wonder, too, how I could have allowed myself to get that far. Maybe predestined to love the bottle. Maybe I was plain nuts. Maybe too proud to say I'm hurting. Too pretentious to admit I'm confused. Too defensive to say I'm scared about my feelings, my future, and my place under the sun. Maybe it's all about teenage drama and the downside of PMS.

Perhaps, I was too secured with friends' not turning their backs on me. Maybe I gloated being spoiled by the same people I adversely affect when I was a mess. Maybe, I misconstrue their patience.

I admire their staying power. I'm sorry for the lack of self-control.

But thankfully, the lousy drunk phase is over. Guess, I've satisfied the curiosity. And somehow found another means for self-expression. It's over. Noisily I indulged in it; silently I withdrew. It's a memory that embarrasses me then, but amuses me now. It's part of my past. It's a lesson learned. It was me.