text: Last night, I got drunk. It was the first time I had ever done that, and I could feel the burning of the cheap bourbon I had stolen from a shop that same day sliding down my throat, drop by drop. It hurt a lot at first, but then the burning became... pleasant, and it made my body feel warm on that harsh winter night. They had told me before that drinking was harmful, and that I should steer clear of drugs such as alcohol, especially being only seventeen. Fuck them. They probably don't know how amazing it feels to have a drink after a rough day... or a rough week... or, in my case, a rough seventeen years. Or maybe they do. But I don't care. I downed that entire bottle of $10 bourbon and I could feel my mind going away, as well as the warm feeling after a couple... hours? Minutes? I can't be sure. However, I can, yes, be sure that that was the first night I forgot who I was. Laying down on my bed, looking at the ceiling, completely wasted, I started to feel something remarkable, dare I say, glorious. It felt like flying or having a vivid dream... something I could barely recall. Was that the feeling of the highly sought-after happiness everyone longed for? Maybe. Maybe not. One thing is certain, though: after having a painful hangover this morning, my body needs more of that feeling. That feeling of what I believe is happiness. That feeling makes it all seem bearable. That feeling makes it all seem forgettable. It makes it all seem fine. And I need things to be fine.