Adventures in Ethanol (2) – I am done.

16/05/20 am

The why

~Saturday 22/02/2020~

I think I will stop drinking. At all. Completely nothing. I will try to get my hands on some kombucha because that is gonna be the most that I allow myself to drink. I don’t know, lets see if this can last. I hope to do at least a month or two. Or maybe for the rest of the semester. Oh my god that is sounding like a such a long time now. Yikes.

A few months back I wrote a short thing about my experiences with drinking. And now I think I may have finally really fucked my life up. I may be having a severe Tension Headache right now (a la Mic) because my neck and back hurts too. (Edit: also woke up with bruises all over my knee and wrist which I don’t know where from.) And I have drank at least 4 liters of water today but I think I may still be dehydrated. Might be a good idea to get some ORS tablets ha-ha. Yesterday I puked twice. The reason that I may say that I have fucked up my life is because, to put it in colloquial terms, its damn xia suay. To these group of people that I barely know. And also, to my parents. I have been told by multiple people that I shouldn’t feel embarrassed by my parents knowing certain things about me. But somehow, I am. Perhaps it is because I do not know how to better describe this feeling. And honestly it really doesn’t make sense to feel embarrassed cos my parents know about my life.

(Oh, and speaking about parents, I may have a certain leverage over my Dad. And I am trying very hard to hold my tongue. Because it is not a good thing at all. And it will affect my livelihood.)

(Got a secret, can you keep it, swear this one you’ll save. Better lock it, in your pocket, taking this one to the grave.)

I have said way too much last night. And that is not a good thing. And I fucked up by lying. Saying things that I myself do not know. Like a freak, I also recorded a large part of the conversation I had. Which means I can listen to it over and feel renewed embarrassment. I don’t know why I did that. I don’t know if anyone saw me doing that. If anyone saw, it would have been really bad. Next time I should just bring a constant voice recorder and pin it to my watch or something. Yikes. But what next time am I even talking about? There isn’t gonna be a next time. For one I can’t fvkin go home drunk anymore. If It happens again, I’m gonna be grounded for sure. Secondly, I’ve honestly had quite enough of this. (Edit:  I don’t know why this happens, but something weird about drunk me is that I tend to lie more. I know people usually become more truthful when drunk. However, I become a big fat liar. It’s as if my alternate personality, or the person I wish I were, takes over.)

I showed them a side that I wouldn’t be otherwise, had I not been drunk. And that is a very big problem. Because in sober life I barely talk to them. At all. And now they’re seeing a side that is overly wild. And they certainly think that I have some split personality issue. And to be very honest, so do I.

These two weeks I have drank a grand total of 4 times. Which is Not Good. I mean, well I guess its better than puking 3 times in a week cos of alcohol. But just as I thought this semester was gonna be so devoid of drinks compared to the previous one. And being kinda sad because of that. My parents say that there are only two reasons whereby someone will drink excessively. One, that they are facing peer pressure to drink more. Two, that they think it is cool to drink copious amounts in front of people. I mean, isn’t that missing out on a big part of why people drink? Which is to relief stress and to attempt to be less sad. Also, the amount of drinking alone…is more this semester? Or perhaps it was more back when I stayed in the hostel. Whereas that time I was completely alone, this time I drink alone while at home. So, I’m kinda alone but not really alone. Eve says that I should try to connect more with my family by showing that I care, so that I will feel less alone when I am with them. I don’t know if its too late. I don’t know if it’s possible. I think I have screwed up way too much.

And now I am not too sure too. I still do not know if my parents are strict. I think so, now. But their actions are inconsistent. So, I don’t know either. And I am still scared to ask. Because their reactions are unpredictable. Predictable in a bad way. I kinda know how they will react to certain things, but I dread it. And hence I do not ask. (Edit: are my parents strict? I don’t know. It’s a mystery. I for one, got to stay out all night with 20 or so people which I have barely met for a month last year. Yet, now, they’re ragging me over trying to stay (safe) inside a hotel with 5 of my closest girlfriends for the past more than 3 years.)

Back to my new adventures, I guess.

What has change since I wrote the previous post about alcohol? I think sometime halfway through the last semester I began to drink. A lot. In my room. Alone. I think the main problem is that I was alone. So, it felt wrong. But thing is when I drink alone, I drink less. Its more of the I drink enough such that I can’t think straight enough to do my work, yet I am still sane. But when I am around people it is somehow much easier to lose your inhibitions and drink excessively. But I think the main point of this paragraph is that I often drank when I was in the hostel. But like small amounts, maybe a pony or two of my chrysanthemum concoction. A beer. A cider. A cup of stolen wine. Mainly a lot of beer and cider I feel. When I moved back home, I had 2 ciders remaining. And even when I was at home, I still drank.

Maybe some beers, some cider, or some wine, mainly. And also, soju. I opened a bottle for my sisters to try and placed it in the fridge. And then (here comes the first tale, a total of 5 for this semester) it was there for a week or two. Then one day, I think it was 30^th of January, a Thursday night. I finished the whole bottle and the remaining wine in the fridge.

Shitfaced alone – 30^th January

That whole week I was really stressed. I had been going home at 10.30++ pm for almost all days for some project. And feeling like a useless piece of shit despite being there certainly doesn’t help. And I had been really thinking about drinking for the whole week and even before that. But because I always had to go to school early the next day. I held back. The project was due on Friday. But I happen to not have early lessons that day. Come Thursday I drank the night away. And only went to school to catch a quick 3pm lesson before the project implementation. It started with me looking at Instagram and getting inspiration. Eve had regularly been drinking alone. JL had been drinking alone a lot that week. And thus, I thought that was something I could do, perhaps, to try and reduce some of that stress and pain in my mind. I took the barely touched bottle from the fridge and placed it on my table. I was using my computer, watching some music videos. Then I began drinking straight from the bottle. I took a picture of it, uploaded it to my stories. And, of course, they would have seen. Spy saw. And we began texting. And me semi-intentionally not caring about spelling and typing random gibberish. I don’t know hoe to explain this. But it was like, I could certainly spell and type properly if I wanted to. But I didn’t want to. And I did not correct my typos. Yea. I was texting while drunk.

I was also intermittently posting stories. Calling an ex-friend, who still followed my stories, out, publicly. I mean, it was my spam/finsta and not my main. But still I don’t think she particularly appreciated the fact that I said stuff about her to multiple people. I also said stuff about other people. Such as Rei. And JL. And June Scarlet. One pretty ridiculous post was about me writing about how I want Mic to return June Scarlet to me. Because sober me knows that Mic doesn’t like June Scarlet. So somehow drunk me relates it to believing that Mic somehow kidnapped or captured her.

(Edits are dated 07/05/20 at 3am. I think I’ll just finish up the rest of the January-February shit that went down, before the thing that happened in April.)

Let’s try writing about this again, shall we?

It was 30^th January, a Thursday night. Or rather, it was already the wee hours of 31^st January, Friday, because by the time I reached home it was pretty much midnight already, because I live a fucking 2 hours from school. My project-ish thing had reached its penultimate / the finale was the next day, the day which will determine whether it was a success or a flop. And yet dumb me decides it was a good time to drink copious amounts of alcohol.

I was basically not caring about who saw what and who felt what, on my Instagram. Posting complete bullshit and trash talking everyone. And add to that some good deal of writing in (broken, I guess?) Chinese. Which is a Trademark sign that I was drunk, apparently. Texting Spy over Instagram, intentionally (kinda? Not really?) mis-spelling stuff, and basically being a drunk ass bitch. I certainly wish my parents didn’t see me that night. Because it would have been such a…disappointment? I know I let myself down too. What with drinking alone and getting fucked up alone.

I went to sleep safely that night. I remember feeling kinda nauseous, but I was pretty much fine. It was just a bit more than half a bottle of soju and a small glass of wine. The next day wasn’t fine at all, tho. I had math at 3pm. I woke up at like, 11+ or 12 and had lunch at home before setting of on a long-ass journey to school. I reached math class some 10 or 15 minutes late. Rei was already in class. Throughout the lesson I had a pounding headache and I couldn’t focus on the lesson and I was so, so tired and nauseous. Hungover and kinda damaged my stomach lining by drinking without having had dinner the previous day, so. And honestly the class was a whole lot of useless, so I might have been better off not going.

I was supposed to meet my project team after my math class, and I was expected to be there by 4.15 or 4.30, latest. But interesting (though not particularly good) stuff occurred. My friend, Hans, had the math class right after mine and Rei’s. We got chased out of the classroom because the TA had to prepare for the next lesson. While Rei and I were walking out of the building, we bumped into Hans. Hans kinda said some convincing stuff to make Rei stay. And so, Rei went for the same lesson twice. And I left alone, because, I had the project thing going on, remember?

But as I was walking to board the bus at the bus stop, Spy called. I think his lesson had just ended too. And we kind of had a thing…? Going on at that time. And we met. And he decided to follow me half the way to my destination. Along the way, we went past a café, and decided to get off the bus a few stops in advance in order to get some caffeine in my tired body. And though I knew this would certainly make me reach later for the project and seem even more irresponsible and useless than I already am, I decided to get the café because I wanted to spend more time with Spy. Hehe. Such is me.

There was a buy-one-get-one promotion going on at that time, so the queue was pretty long. I was getting rather anxious at being late-ish. We ordered our drinks, and the drink took a very, very, very long time to arrive. I was so glad when the barista handed it to us. But guess what. Hungover and shakey and generally just being a careless person I almost bumped onto someone. Spy reached out to grab my arm and ono I accidentally released my grip on the cup and it fell, fell, tumbling to the ground. Oops. I was shooketh. But also rushing for time. He didn’t have to do this, but Spy gave me his drink. And then we parted ways.

Then it was crunch time. I walked in sheepishly as my teammates were panicking and trying their best to get ready for the project.

How did it go? It went better than I expected, but in other ways, also quite meh. Plenty of hiccups. Some shit happened, partly caused by me and my anxiety, but I couldn’t tell, could I?

And then it ends. It ended at 9++, but we stayed for abit. And then went for supper. Until it was late at night. And then I stayed over at Eve’s because I couldn’t be bothered to try to catch the last train home.

(Some irrelevant detail: I remember telling Eve about how Case 8 of the then termed Wuhan-pneumonia was actually a locally transmitted case in my country (which I shall not mention 😉) and we were being denied that information, and I knew this through a family member who worked in Civil Service.)

In retrospect, this should’ve been the first strike from my parents. Because, after getting permission from them to stay overnight, because it was quite impossible to return home without taking a cab at that time, I received a long message from my mom about how it was “wrong” to stay at my friend’s place. Till now I do not understand. “Wrong” because I was being a burden to my friend? “Wrong” because we were breaking the school rules and Eve could be implicated? “Wrong” because I was a girl and it wasn’t safe? Because they certainly didn’t say much, when half a year ago, I literally mabuk-ed on the streets with a bunch of guys and girls that I had just met for less than a month. And they literally said nothing to me about it. Yes, I am fucking salty about their change in attitude. If they felt it was wrong, they could plenty well have talked to me about it back then. Instead of doing a complete 180 6 months later. Actually, the main issue isn’t this particular one. It is something later down. Something happening in the week after Valentine’s.

And I guess this particular episode has reached its end.

Spying on ya – 12^th February

The next one I am gonna mention is perhaps the tamest social drinking event that I have had in a while. Which is pleasant and sweet in its way. It was a kind of, the last thing that I enjoyed, before shit happened and all hell broke down. It was the Wednesday before Valentine’s day, 12^th February. I realize I keep mentioning V-Day. I never actually had a date for V-Day. But this is relevant in certain ways that I don’t know if I will successfully bring across later on, and if I want to. This was the first of 4 “drinking days” in two weeks. And their significance is, in my mind, very much tied to V-Day. So, God bless and spare me.

Turmeric.

Before all hell breaks loose. A small and insignificant little detail from that Wednesday. “Maybe I should eat more turmeric”, I said to Spy, while we were strolling in the Supermarket. The day began with Spy and I deciding that perhaps we should meet for breakfast. I decided to go for a bit of Biology lessons that morning. At that time, classes were already shifted online, and lecture attendance was no longer enforced. But I guess I kinda pitied the lecturers because they would be speaking to an empty theatre just to record the lecture. And so, I went. About an hour or more into the lesson, Spy (who didn’t take that class), came into the lecture theatre. We chatted for a bit and then went for breakfast after the lecture. Though I usually skipped breakfast. It was nice, a morning date of sorts. Then we strolled for a bit before the next class at 2pm.

Random musings about turmeric and Biology class. The relevance is not obvious. But when we consider that this whole piece of writing is basically about alcohol and excessive drinking, my obsession with turmeric makes more sense. It is known to be good for your liver, I think. Which I certainly will have to worry about, considering within two weeks from that day, I drank myself drunk 4 times, and even to the point of puking the last time.

We went for a few more classes together, and then went for dinner at a posh-ish Japanese restaurant. We got sake in a bottle that resembled Aladdin’s lamp, and a tempura rice bowl set each. The food was a lot, and a lot of nice, and we sat there for a good few hours, drinking, eating, and just talking.  Rather cute, I guess. And Spy said some things. Confessed, if you will. I am bad at writing about this. How. He had previously asked me out for V-Day already, which was in two days. I pretty much agreed.

I do not know what I was thinking. Fear? Perhaps I was afraid to go too deeply into this. But I bailed. I told Spy, said some things about how my friends could finally find time to meet, and I was gonna meet them that day instead.

Rose Cider over Roses – 14^th February

Which, as it turns out, more drinking. I met with 3 of my friends on V-Day. We went for lunch, had a study-ish session, and then spent the evening and night drinking, and having htht.

I don’t know why I am finding it hard to talk about the drinking. Even though that was what I intended to do when I set out to write this story / diary thing. This seems to bring about a level of cringe comparable to writing the Einsamkeit story about Yao / Bald Penguin and Ike.

We had two bottles of soju and a cider. Oh, I forgot to mention who I was with. I met with Eva, Eve, and Rei that day. We went for lunch and hung abit. Then Eva left and it was me, Eve and Rei. We drank straight from the bottle, the three of us. It was certainly not enough booze to get fucked up. But it was enough to get me to a heightened state of emotions. I cried a bit. Eve cried. Rei cried. We all cried. We hugged. We tried to play truth or dare, but the thing with three tame girls is, nope not gonna happen. We found a bunch of very personal and kinda dark questions online and began asking each other questions and answering them.

I asked some things I shouldn’t have. Some sensitive things. Revealed some about me. Talked about Mic and Spy and everyone else. I told them about how I bailed on Spy for that day.

It was an eventful night, beginning with attempting to try Tik Tok, giving up, and deciding to just talk. That was my Valentine’s Day.

At the end of the night (which we spent being at Eve’s place) me and Rei left to go home. I was a bit drunk. At the stage of drunk where I am just about to start speaking and typing in Chinese. Just about to. We were reaching the train station, when we received a text from Eve. About how a friend, Kai, who had a bit of a thing for Rei, I think, has asked the whole group out for drinks the next week. And this will be the next event that I will talk about.

Panic! At the Chinatown – 18^th February

It was a Tuesday, 18^th February. Kai was in the army and he had a few days break and wanted to catch up with friends, he said. Though I kind of think that it was just mainly to see Rei. Ha-ha.

18^th February we met. That day we had a larger group. 6 people. Me, Rei, Eve, Eva, JL, and Kai. We promptly began discussions, over the weekend, after we agreed to meetup. First, the plan was to just get drinks. At a bar or something, something with the Church Street-esque vibe in general. And that was the state of our discussions, and so I asked my parents for permission to go as such. The permission given was to stick to only one drink and then go home.

Next, were worries about how Rei couldn’t go home drunk. So, it would be kinda anti-climactic if she had to keep herself not-red. And how it would be much more convenient for everyone if we were to just book a hotel for a night and stay there. And then we wouldn’t have to go to a bar and can just drink in the room. Which is actually a good idea. That is, if I wasn’t actually living at home, and can’t just not go home for a night. But I tentatively said that, yea, I can stay the night. I guess I didn’t really dare to ask my parents.

But I did and they maintained the rule that I could only have one drink. And then said that I couldn’t stay. Even if everyone else was staying for the night. And why was everyone else allowed to stay the night? Let’s explore this. Firstly, Kai is biologically male. Next, Eve and JL and Eva stayed in school. Which basically means they don’t need permission. And then Rei. Rei began by asking if she could stay in a chalet, never once mentioning the possibility of getting drinks. Whereas I, with my incomplete information, began by asking if I could go for drinks. And hence, honesty at play.

And I couldn’t just say that we weren’t going for drinks. Because that is just questionable, since I had already told my parents that we were gonna drink. And so there goes my permission. Because apparently, I was gonna get fucked literally. Instead of JL. Or Eve. Or Rei. Who all looked much better and honestly have much higher chances than me at anything?

I decided that I was just gonna stay anyway. And two things could play out. Either I keep delaying the time I was gonna reach home, and end up staying the whole night, or my parents went all the way down to CQ to pick me up. I betted on the former. The latter happened instead.

The experience was really quite humiliating, mortifying, traumatizing, everything bad that you can think of. Till now I still have flashbacks of that night. The physical scars (you’ll see why later) have since faded, but the mental trauma…it never leaves. I’m paranoid, I’m scared to tell my parents anything, and I feel like I can no longer trust them to allow me to do things. That I can’t really trust that if I tell them what I was gonna do, I can get their approval. Which is not really a good mindset to have.

We had lessons that Tuesday morning. And then none on Wednesday. And the following week was a holiday. So, I technically could totally afford to stay out a night. I had fucking done this before. But the problem is I wasn’t allowed to do so. Each person brought abit of drinks. Eve and I brought two sojus each. Unfortunately, I had to leave that night before I could drink enough alcohol to feel satisfied. So that’s pretty sad. Rei or JL brought a Black Label.

The whole gang arrived by 5 or 6, and we had a shot each and went for dinner.

My anxiety regarding my plan to stay out without permission sent the butterflies in my stomach into overdrive. Because I really, really, really wished that I could stay. But I also felt kinda guilty that my parents were expecting me to go back.

I did the worst thing I could have done in this situation. My dumb arse decided that it was a good idea to text my sister telling her that I wasn’t gonna go home. I mean, in this case, even not saying anything until 12am would have been a better choice. lol. Then at least I could’ve stayed till like 1 and then took Night Rider home if I really had no choice but to go back. But with what I did, I reduced my deadline prematurely to some 10.30pm. when my dad sent a long fucking passive aggressive text message to the family group chat telling me to fucking go home.

And I cried. I hid under the blankets and wept for a solid 5 minutes. Uncontrollable sobs. Mostly due to the shock of receiving that message, and the fucking tone of that message. It is like a killer whale jumping out of the fucking blue sky. Out of the blue. With no rhyme or reason. It is as if someone stabbed me. Very bureaucratic. And I think I shall type it here. Even though it hurts, it fucking hurts just to look at it. But for the sake of art. Because this passive-aggressive-politician-esque message is sincerely a piece of fucking art.

Dear Sashimi,

Reference to your earlier message to Clara dated 18 Feb 2020 @ 6.00pm, it has come to our attention that you will be out drinking tonight.

Kindly advise the time that you will be back home and the justification why the timing has to be so.

Yours faithfully,

Daddy

From the slightly broken, but functioning, formal, business-oriented English. The intentional missing out of nouns. The words, the names, the resemblance to emails, which make me quiver with fear. I do not understand what the fuck is going on in his mind when he wrote that piece.

When someone says something that scares the living bejeezus out of you. You forget whatever hold you have on them. You forget that you know something about them that can incriminate them. Fight or flight. Slightly boozed up me chose fright. You forget that they are gay. You deadass forget anything useful that could aid you in the argument.

I was emotional and tearing up. My friends told me to take a cry break and cry for a few, before replying to the message, but only when I was ready and rational. And they helped me craft a message which I sent to my mom. Then anxiety. I turned off my phone for a bit. Which was a bad idea. That was 11+ pm. The parents were furious. Which was understandable. But still doesn’t justify the passive aggressive message from my dad. (Shit, writing this makes me miss the feeling of the blade on my arm.)

Then when I was ready, I turned on my phone. Apparently, my parents called, and it couldn’t go through. But my mom demanded that I call. She said to tell them where I was, and they were gonna go down to pick me up. Because I had replied that I was gonna stay cos it was too late to go home.

I went to the bathroom for the call. They said to tell them where I was. I was scared. Frightened. They were gonna come and pull me away and I didn’t want to go back just yet. So, I was silent. I cried silently. Then my mon threatened to call the police to come and get me if I didn’t tell them. I just couldn’t tho. I was scared. Shocked. Traumatized by the threat. So, I got JL on the phone. (Thanks, JL for always cleaning up my shit. And I’m so sorry for always being such a burden.) JL told them which hotel we were at. And they were on their way to get me.

I really did not want to go back then. Not just yet. I wasn’t ready. When JL told me that my parents knew where I was, I felt kinda betrayed. But she said that it was to help protect my parent’s impression of them so that I still had a chance to go out next time. But hell, I am fucking traumatized. I don’t think I will even dare to ask them??

And I was to prepare to go home by stopping the tears, brushing my teeth to freshen up, and by sobering up. I was in the toilet washing my face and looking at the ugliness that I was. JL came in and showed me some scars.

And then my parents were here, and she went down with me to the car. Throughout the ride I just stoned there. My parents didn’t say a word. Neither did I. I didn’t even look at my phone. I was too sad. Too frozen. Too traumatized. When we reached home, I still didn’t open my phone. My parents gave a stern talking to for 10-15 minutes while I just stood there, still kinda buzzed and head heady from the crying. But I didn’t cry. I couldn’t.

I went for a bath, and then went into my room. The scars that I saw on JL. And it turns out that while I was in the car JL texted me saying to never do what she did, or she will feel guilty for telling me that. But I wasn’t looking at my phone at all. So, I didn’t see that. Had I seen it; would it have stopped me? I want to know, because this was sincerely a monumental event in my recent history, which made me restart the harmful behavior that I had not done since some time in 2017.

That night I was feeling all kinds of shitty from this experience. After my bath, I went into my dark room and stood there. Lost. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I was supposed to still be at the hotel. Fuck, I had a set of clothes in my fucking schoolbag. My parents believed that I would be raped if I stayed outside. I was confused. I was sad. Very sad. Very lost. It was as if I wanted to show them that I was much more of a danger to myself than anyone else, much less any of my friends, ever could be. I wanted to prove it to them, so that they would stop their unreasonable beliefs and expectations.

I took out my penknife from my pencil case. And washed the tip of the blade. It wasn’t sharp at all, actually. It was more possible contamination than possible blood. I went back to my room. In the dark. I stood there. And began scratching my skin with the tip of the knife. Alcohol is a depressant. It numbs pain. It wasn’t much pain. Just a little. But it hurt. I haven’t scratched or cut myself in YEARS. I wasn’t used to the pain. I winced. And then I continued. A total of 9 or 10 scratches. None drew blood. Though in the dark I was certain it would have drawn blood. Considering that the bumps were raised and painful.

I didn’t turn on the light in my room. After I was done with the blade, I just went to bed.

I woke up at 4 something am. As before, drunk me has pretty bad sleep. I went to check my phone, where I saw JL’s message. I also went to the toilet. Where in the light, I could finally see the damage I had done. I did not draw blood. but I had thought that the scratches healed completely, because it no longer felt sore. Nope. The scratches were red. Very red. Very obvious. I went onto Instagram and posted that I was now one step closer to joining the black parade.

The scars took about 2 weeks to heal. Which is what I expected from what I read online. I can never ever let JL see my scars.

I lay in bed, using my phone, for the next two hours. At 6+am, my mum woke up and saw me using my phone in the dark, and I was told off again. The next day, my parents said nothing at all about the previous night.

The scars. I still want to show them that I am the danger to myself. That I am not some fairy that guys covet. I am disgusting. I can fucking hurt myself. And I want to prove to them that if they try to keep me in, all the more it will harm me, by making me hurt myself. Alas, I don’t think my parents saw my scars. I think I did a pretty good job of hiding it. Because, if they confronted me about it, what the fuck would I say? I will just freeze there. Speechless. I can’t possibly say “if you can be gay, I can drink” to them. I don’t have such balls to do that.

So, it is just me and my scars and me trying to hide my scars from everyone, my parents, my family, my friends…everyone. I’m pretty sure some people saw it. But no one confronted me about it.

And that night of cutting. Will set a precedent for me to cut myself with increasing frequency in the following weeks. Mainly whenever my father said something hurtful. It was as if I wanted to prove that, “you can’t hurt me as much as I can hurt myself”. I wanted to take back control of the hurt that I receive. I think I will write more about the “Blade Adventures” some other time. Because now there is still one more boozy story to tell. And another to wrap up. But it is late.

Highest bar before barred – 21^st February

(15/05/19)

Its amazing how good I am at putting off the things that I need to do. Such as creating a c# script so that my character can literally just move. Can you believe it. I’m such a bad programmer. My character can’t even move.

The next time I drank was in the same week. A Friday. 21^st February. It is kinda related to the reason I drank on 30^th January. But this time it was with a group of people. About 8 to 10 people. The 4 or 5 people in the main group who was planning the project, and other people who helped out in the event, and also some friends of friends. Which was where it becomes interesting. It was a big group of people. Someone important for that night was Heather, who was part of the planning team. Actually, I should say, project director.

The group was kinda too big for my liking, if I were to be honest. Initially I was unable to talk. The social anxiety was rather bad. Also considering that I felt like a useless person in the group. And kinda out of place as well. And there were a lot of people whom I have never talked to before. I was only able to talk to Heather because she actually tried to talk to me. Even though I was literally the most boring person there.

So, I needed the booze. In fact, I was really glad that we were gonna drink that day. Because booze was probably the only way for me to feel less out of place in a large group of people. So, bring on the booze!

Starting off with one tower and one bucket. And starting slowly, I was by far not the most wasted one there. Initially. But by the end, I was probably the most wasted out of everyone. And as the Korean puts it, “you’re only drunk if you’re puking”. And I could almost be quite certain that I made a gross mess of myself being drunk and puking in front of Heather, and then afterwards on my fucking floor carpet in my room.

The drinking was going rather well. But drinking usually doesn’t go well for me. I tried to stay hydrated at the start by drinking some water to dilute the booze.

But I am a fool who doesn’t get red. I kept on drinking not knowing my limits. Until I was gone. I went to the toilet and was doing my business as I always did when drunk and urgent. And some of the people I was with, Heather included, went to the toilet while I was in there. And somehow their conversation shifted to exes and crushes or something along the line. And I heard Heather’s distinct voice talking about how there was someone she liked who she had to give up or something. I don’t recall clearly. And another girl was talking about a breakup with her ex-girlfriend. So, I guess the conversation was breakups or something.

And I asked (in Chinese, though that is of no relevance to the conversation this time) “who are y’all talking about” while in the toilet stall. They were shooketh. “Is that Sashimi?” someone asked. To which I think I concurred. I walked out of the stall after I saw done, to see about two people talking. Indeed, it is Heather. And the conversation was related, somehow, to me. And I had a kinda suspicion, or knowing, about what it was. But I wanted to hear more, know more, about it. And so, I poked.

The guy was Spy. As it turns out. The guy who was the cause of Heather’s heartbreak.

I think the amount of context at this point is still insufficient. Ok so here goes. Spy, Heather, and Sashimi are mutual friends who met because of a common friend, Mic. But at this point of time in 2020, Spy, Heather, and Mic are still in some kinda friend group, but Sashimi is no longer in their group. Because of Sashimi being done with being afraid of Mic and deciding that they are equals and she doesn’t deserve to live a life of fear of being threatened by Mic. But this is very understandable because Sashimi has known Mic the longest, out of the 3, and thus of course Sashimi has dealt with the most of Mic’s bullshit. And also, because Mic acts tame in front of her new college friends.

Also, Heather has had a liking for Spy. And that was quite long ago. And around the same time Spy had also taken a liking for Heather. But Spy had mistakenly believed that Heather likes another of her male friends whom she always hung out with. And hence Spy believe that he doesn’t stand a chance. Even though it is Sashimi’s fervent belief that “having a goalkeeper doesn’t mean that you can’t still score a goal.” And thus Spy “gave up” on that. And Spy realized that he likes Sashimi.

Thus, now we have Spy who liked Heather and whom likes Sashimi. And we have Heather who liked and still likes Spy. And we have Sashimi, who currently, and recently, likes Spy, but is very unsure of even her sexuality, much less her capability to like someone, and whether she actually likes Spy. But now, looking back, I believe that Sashimi did like Spy.

Spy and Sashimi go on a date to eat sashimi.

Ok sorry. Is that too much?

So, its nearing Christmas and there was a plan for all 4 of them to go to Winter Wonderland. But by this point, after completely scaring Sashimi mere hours before her flight, Mic now HATES Sashimi. Mic WILL NOT go out with Sashimi ever again. And suggests to the group to go out as a group of 3 while leaving Sashimi out, because she wants to, quote unquote, let Sashimi experience the pain of being left out.

But remember that Spy likes Sashimi. And Heather is a nice person. A very nice person. Too much of a nice person. So, they did not allow that to happen at that time. But remember that Heather likes Spy. and would certainly want to go out with Spy. Spy suggests the two of them go. But Heather rejects it, because knowing that it will make Mic unhappy. And, to reject an invitation from someone you like just for the sake of loyalty to a friend. Requires so, much, so, much, goddamn, niceness. Which was what Heather kept emphasizing as she told me the story on that night 21^st Feb.

And time skip to V-day which was a week before. Heather hints to Spy, I guess. But Spy had plans in mind. Which I completely screwed, as it turns out. Both for me. And for everyone. Because Sashimi is a fool with the brain of a Fish and is incapable of coherent thought regardless of her state of sobriety. So Heather is sad because Spy has plans, and those plans were not Heather. And to learn about how Sashimi cancelled on its last minute, makes it all the worse, because Sashimi ruined it for EVERYONE. By simply existing, Sashimi ruined it for Heather. By pulling out, Sashimi ruined it for Spy. and by being a dumb, drunk, fuck, Sashimi ruined it for herself.

And from the toilet and back to the bar we were drinking at. Heather told me a long story. With me randomly interrupting to scream “OMGGGGG”, or “AAAAA”, or just incoherent screaming in general. We talked about Mic, about Spy, about a lot of things that transpired. And Heather talks about how good of a person she was for considering Mic’s feelings when Mic clearly has only herself on her mind. And I would interject by screaming about how good of a person Rei was, for putting up with Mic.

I was being really loud and annoying, I know. It is BADDD. We got more drinks. more soju buckets. I shared a vodka mixer with someone I only just met. I took videos. I reposted a picture on my main. That was how drunk I was. I was to the point of not caring, being sloppy, and just drinking straight from the bottle.

The Korean came along and said to me, “Sashimi, you’re so funny when you’re drunk” as a sort of compliment. I choose to believe that it was a compliment. I was still shouting, saying “OH MY GODDDDD” in a really loud and high-pitched voice in front of these people whom I believe have never even seen me talk.

You see, the Korean was someone who probably became red when drunk and became drunk very quickly and very obviously. So, people knew that she was drunk and will try to stop her from drinking more. And that might be a good thing. But as for Sashimi. Sashimi gets drunk slowly. But when she does get drunk, she is very, very, very drunk. And Sashimi kinda wishes that she will have the discipline to stop herself before the booze gets too bad because its not easy to tell when she will get drunk, y’know.

Heather and I talked a lot that day. And then the night ended. And it was about half past 12. And I was long past reaching home on time for my new curfew, set just 3 nights ago. Heather was fine but I wasn’t. She helped me to call a cab and we went to my house together. And along the way I had to puke. In the fucking cab. Ughh. Puking. I hate that. But I kinda knew that it was gonna happen. What with me chugging the soju. It stank.

I was lucky the driver had a plastic bag I could use. Or else I would certainly have to pay for the damages to the vehicle. Puking into a plastic bag in front of Heather. I was certainly embarrassed. But nothing could compare to the amount of shit I would be getting into when I reached home. My mom was waiting angrily. And then I went to bathe, still nauseous. After the bath, I went into my room and sat on the bed, nauseous. And I puked on the carpet, goddamn. My mom came in and was certainly furious. And I had to clean it up, while stumbling on the floor and naked.

I was…whatever face that I had left was gone already. I cleaned it up abit. Shoved it around with the kitchen towels abit. And then gave up and decided to sleep.

The next morning the room STANK. When I woke up, either I called or Spy called, but we were on an hour-long conversation. And apparently, he hadn’t slept, because he and Heather had called for the entire night. Wow. Where Heather told Spy everything I said, including a part about how, when Heather  asked me why I cancelled V-Day and I said that it was because I was unsure if I still had feelings for my ex-girlfriend. Who would be Yao (Fucking Yao from Einsamkeit again.), the one fucking around with all the girls all the way across the world. Which, can I even say that we were together? In Yao’s eyes I am a joke compared to the other crushes and girlfriends she has had.

And so, drawing inspiration from the other person in our group I mentioned my possible remnant feelings for Yao as a reason for cancelling on Spy. When in reality, it was a decision that no one can explain, not even me. I often do things that I cannot explain. And Spy talked about how I would never be able to get into a steady relationship with a guy if I told them that I liked them back when I wasn’t sure if I actually did. Which was…kinda hurtful, I’d say.

But me cancelling was certainly my bad, which not even I am able to justify. So, there’s that. I’m the monster.

But nothing could prepare me for the great scolding that would come. My parents talked about how disappointed they were with me for going out without telling them and making a mess of myself and getting drunk. And then, wait for it, we reviewed my finances.

And they told me to stop drinking anymore, since I was someone who cannot control my drinking once I started. Which I kinda agreed with. Also, Spy had once talked about how puking in front of his parents made him decide to swear off all drinking. Which I now realized made complete sense.

And I would try to quit alcohol.

XMM’s EDM party at home – 4^th April

~02/05/2020~

I never know self-destruction, will I? The essay above is not even vaguely up to date. I have 3 examinations in two days. Yet here I am, writing baseless shit. I’m so dumb.

Anyway, I just need to mention, not following up on the previous story, about a separate incidence of drinking excessively. Following that day, I stopped drinking for at least 5 or 6 weeks. I think it was 6 whole weeks and then a day. The day was 4^th April. A day after the lockdown was announced. In March I had cut myself a few times. And in the week leading up to 4^th April, I cut myself at least twice. I am looking at my calendar now and it seems after that day I stopped cutting. Cos there’s no record on my calendar. But I don’t think its completely accurate. Scary. I think I might’ve actually gotten to think of cutting as a normal thing and stopped bothering to record it.

Anyway, back to the main point. 4^th April. The previous day I had just went out to study with Rei. I was quite stressed I feel. We had completed a portion of an assignment. Oh, and now that I write about it, the memories are coming back. It has to do with a certain Hans too. So, the story goes. Me, Rei, and Hans were supposed to do the assignment together. It was a monster of a coding assignment. But the day came around and Hans wasn’t with us when we were doing it. So, it ends up with only me and Rei doing the assignment. And it went pretty well. Cos I would usually say that Hans talks way too much and makes it impossible for me to focus. So, it was basically me thinking up the algorithm, and Rei doing the coding.

Then 4pm came around, LHL made the announcement about the lockdown which would start the following Tuesday, yada yada. Then at night me and Rei parted ways sadly, cos we weren’t gonna get to meet for the next month or so.

So now cos only me and Rei were doing the assignment, Hans still hasn’t started on his assignment. Saturday came around. And apparently Hans and Rei were discussing the part of the assignment that I have already completed. So of course, I wouldn’t be too happy to “waste” more time on a part that I had already done. But it turns out I was even more unhappy about Rei and Hans discussing the assignment without me knowing. (Resembles someone, doesn’t it. A certain Mic’s Friend Poaching Theory.) And there’s one of the reasons I was sad that day.

Another reason would be my parents. I was told to take out the rubbish. But they made me feel really crappy about it for shouting at me. And so, I decided to go downstairs for a walk. I ended up staring at the sky and sitting on the pool benches for a good fifteen to thirty minutes. Then I went back up to my house. I think this was when I heard about Rei and Hans. Or maybe the order is twisted. I can’t really recall. Anyway, this made me sad too.

But since now Rei has helped Hans with his assignment, we were now on the same progress in the assignment. And the three of us made an agreement to meet online to discuss the next day.

At night, it was about 2 am. I sat at the sofa in the living room. I contemplated life, and everything that made me sad. Feeling left out from Rei and Hans. Granted I knew that Rei had a thing for Hans, and I was glad that this might be a sign that they’re getting together. But I was still sad. And scared that I would lose two friends. Two friends who were mine before they were each other’s.

I lay there thinking. Then my Dad and my Sis went to bed. And I was still there…I turned on the TV and listened to some Alan Walker songs. Then I decided that I needed a drink, for all the sad that I was. I first mixed some soju and blueberry punch in a rinsed bubble tea cup. It was a 3 quarter to 2 third filled bottle. And sat there, watching music videos, posting VERY RANDOM crap on my Instagram. And then when that cup was finished. I had another half-filled bottle of soju. I decided to finish that as well. The night was still young. I thought. It was about 4 am?

This half-filled bottle was what I got from that last time I went out drinking, 21 Feb. And it had been half filled, stored in my room at room temperature, and had some saliva because I vaguely remember drinking straight from the bottle. All this went on Instagram as well. I mixed another cup of that same thing. The blueberry punch helped to dilute the taste of alcohol and made it go down was easier. Before long I had finished over a bottle of soju’s worth of alcohol.

I would guess that my weight at that time was around 54kgs. Which was only 90 percent of the previous years. which means I was a lightweight. And my tolerance is no longer whatever little tolerance I used to have back when I was 60++kgs. Also compared to 57-56kgs me who also drank a bottle of soju at home, slightly less tolerance. Granted I actually had a meal this time. But it was 3am. My stomach was good as empty.

All would have been well if I had stopped then. A bottle of soju definitely wouldn’t make me toh. But that wasn’t enough for sad, sad me. I had about 5 shots, or 150 ml of Gin-Chrysanthemum infusion in the fridge that had been there for quite a while. It was labelled as “Sashimi’s Chemistry Experiment”. And my parents had been bugging me to tell them what it was. And I was afraid that they would open it. Because they had already commented on my drinking habits back in the February saga.

I decided that then would be a good time to finish it up. So, I poured that into the cup too. 150 ml of pure gin. Made more palatable by infusing chrysanthemum flowers in it. Though at that time I trust the taste doesn’t matter anymore. I was far too drunk. I think I made some posts about that too. And then proceeded to drink it. It was about 5++ am. On my Instagram, there was somehow some posts about me watching Mr. Brightside and literally just posting lyrics from the song. Makes me cringe now that I think about it. But I don’t remember actually watching it, and that’s the problem.

And then I was nauseous. I had just enough sobriety to go to the toilet and close the door. And proceeded to puke a few rounds into the toilet bowl. I think I made a mess, with toilet paper strewn all around and toppling the toothbrush cups and stuff. that’s what my sister said in the morning. I don’t recall much apart from puking. And feeling very nauseous. And that throbbing, pounding headache.

I also remember dropping my phone into the toilet bowl. I think I proceeded to wash it in the sink. In the morning, I woke up to my phone having a warning about water in the charger hole as a potential fire / short circuit hazard. I am lucky it didn’t die. A Samsung S9+.

I woke up the next morning, still nauseous, very dehydrated and unable to walk straight and all. I drank some water and then more.

I think that has to be the lowest point of my relationship with alcohol. About a week ago, I tried to smell the soju bottles, and realized that I still feel nauseous. Approximately half the times I drink I end up puking. I have very bad tolerance. Very bad self-control. Drinking till I puked while I was with friends. That is understandable. But at home? What the actual fuck? What sort of degenerate alcoholic actually drinks enough to puke while alone at home?

This experience might have just ruined alcohol for me. I have been almost a month clean now. Today is exactly 4 weeks. I do still want to be able to go out with friends, if they aren’t completely annoyed by me being a burden. I do still want to enjoy drinking, clubbing, etc. but I wish that I will be able to control myself. Because I get it. My parents were right. There is absolutely no reason for me to drink to the point of puking.

As for cutting myself…I think its kind of a substitute for drinking? It is bad too. I am trying to stop. But it is…in a way…less harmful? It has more implications for mental health, but it is, in actual physicality, less destructive. I hope.

Thus

(15/5/20)

I am not in any way advocating for cutting or drinking as a way to relieve stress. Which is better? I don’t know. Both are bad. Alcoholism makes you seem less like a crazy person. Self-mutilation leaves you with enough sobriety to do work, if you don’t cut too deep.

I have experienced the extremes of it all. I have been all types of drunk.

I have been the drunk who is still just as quiet. The drunk who becomes very loud, unlike her natural state. The drunk who sits on the ground in the middle of Church Street asking loudly if her mates were trying to get her to stand up and go to a chair because it was illegal, not realizing that it was because that was dangerous and an annoyance. I have been the drunk who took a vape. The drunk who drinks every night. The drunk who pukes in the toilet. The drunk who pukes on the ground, in a plastic bag, on my goddamn fucking carpet. I have been the drunk who cries a very ugly cry. The drunk who forgets the rules of card games. The drunk who starts speaking another language. (In my case, Chinese. And apparently, I am so bad at it that I am very self-conscious when I speak it and thus, I can only speak Chinese when drunk. Rather pathetic I know.) The drunk who picks up a 10-cent coin from the floor because why the fuck would you do that. The drunk whose parents have to come and forcefully bring them home. The drunk who sings loudly. The drunk who uses Shazam on the same song 15 minutes apart because I had forgotten that I had heard it before. The drunk who lies down on a bunch of chairs in the bar. The drunk who forgets to lock her apartment door. The drunk who is too drunk to go home, so she sleeps on her friends’ floor. The drunk who feels nauseous the next morning because she is too damn hungover. The drunk who doesn’t eat for a day after 2 consecutive nights of binge drinking because the nausea is too bad. And whom ends up losing 15 pounds in her first year of college, and this can be partially attributed to the booze, for making her too nauseous to eat, and realizing that she likes being light.

And this is a mental disorder. Being a cutter too. From the night I needed to prove that I, not my parents, and not my friends, was most capable of hurting me. To spilling blood. I think it is better now. Recently the urge has gone away. Though occasionally the visions still haunt me. The visions of me spilling my own blood, it urging me to do it. But I know the visions mean no harm. The fact that I am having those visions means that I am harming myself in my imagination rather than in real life. And that, I would say, is a great improvement.