But this time, it isn't because of some eldritch abomination screwing with my brain or my memories revolting or my brain going pphbth because it can't process what happened.
Nope, nothing like that.
I just went on a binge.
It's...kind of surprising how much you can drink when you put your mind to it.
And that was a stupid, stupid, stupid waste of time that only got me my first ever hangover. Christ, I don't even want to know how much I puked.
So scratch 'drink your brains out' off my list of coping mechanisms.
I'm tucked away in the back corner of another library. After I came to this morning in that same hotel from my last post, face down in my pillow and stinking of cheap beer, I realized I had to get moving. Of course, I had to wait for a bit before my head felt vaguely non-nuclear-explosion-ish. A very long, very cold shower helped a bit. So here I am, with my icky-feeling clothes and faithful laptop. Hopefully, the next place I stay for the night will have a laundry somewhere.
While I was on the bus earlier, I found myself staring out the window, flinching every time I saw a man in a suit or a tall tree. Am I going to spend the rest of my life like this, cringing and hiding and running and never being able to sit down without staring over my shoulder for something trying to kill me?
I don't want this. I don't want to be like this until I slip up and get ripped apart.
I need to find something to work towards. People in the blogs, they generally have more on their list than just 'evade Slender Man.' I've got to find something to put on mine.