when i got home that night

- three-hundred and sixty-five days

prior to writing this,
i’d spent exactly

- forty-five minutes

drinking.
i’d left the house at

- eight-thirty pm

and planned to spend about

- three and a half-hours

shooting the **** with old friends
while pretending i was okay.
instead, i downed

- three double-shots of ***** and lemonade
- three double-shots of malibu and coke
- 2 shots of amaretto and coke
- and one pint of beer.

and after those forty five minutes,
my friend spent about

- twenty minutes

dragging me home.
it took

- two-and-a-half minutes

to explain to her that i’d been ill.
very ill.
and that really, i still was
very ill.
and it took

- two-point-five seconds

for her to ignore me.
when I got home that night

- three-hundred and sixty-five days

prior to writing this,
i spent about

- one hour

throwing up through my mouth.
and through my nose.

- two eyes
- one t-shirt
- one toilet bowl
- one bedsheet

soaked in tears, mascara and *****