Old wounds new year

Well, it’s the second today. I have a ton of work to do and honestly I still feel kinda gutted over the whole new years thing. Like I was trying to just move on without actually talking about it but it’s still bugging me so I guess this is happening. My parents aren’t stupid, before I could even try to come up with some type of excuse or gentle lie they knew exactly what had happened and why. And the way they looked at me I just… Ugh. “Are you still going to be able to enjoy yourself?” My mom asked with that same half pity half disappointment look and I smiled wide and flipped My hair and lied. Sure, no worries, I’m fine. Totally cool. I threw myself into the party to prove it. Drinking the beer my brother brewed and bantering with some of the darlings. It pays to know the brewmaster of a bustling new restaurant/bar. No waiting in line, no paying for drinks. We hung out in the back by the cold box, an area the actual customers couldn’t access. The darlings did a small performance, it was crowded and a bunch of tall people stood in front of me so all I could see for most of it was the tips of their fans. But I didn’t care because I was a slightly drunk dead shell, trying to give a convincing performance as “myself, having a good time at a party!” And it could have all worked out so easily, is what kills me. It could have but instead it didn’t. They left not five minutes later. If we had just been a tiny bit later, If I had told him to just wait outside a bit longer. If he hadn’t forgotten his fucking phone. Then just maybe I wouldn’t have had to spend the last hour of 2015 feeling awkward and embarrassed and worried and sad af. Wandering around in a stupor with a big fake smile.  Maybe I could have kissed my s.o. At midnight, instead of being halfway up a staircase when midnight hit. I didn’t even get to see the stupid thing drop. I crested the staircase to see my parents and a bunch of other couples kissing, suddenly realizing I had missed it. I hugged them and smiled some more and shriveled all up. We drove home and I just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry but i kept the conversation going about the new place and the stupid sign they put up and the guy who used way too many screws building the cold box. Because I knew if it lagged the one thing I was desperate to avoid talking about would come up. But of course when we arrived at my apartment to drop me off, they still had to mention it. And I went inside and spent the first few hours of 2016 drinking way too much to kill my feelings, eating basically nothing, and eventually puking. Idk why it’s still bothering me, it’s stupid and it’s over, but it is. Ugh. Whatever. Maybe I can move on now that I wrote it out.

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