Dear Diary

I woke up with the afternoon sun piercing through the blinds.
The hazy taste of last night lingers on my lips
while I lie in bed feeling groggy.
Instantaneously a headache pounds as I get up.
All of last night’s celebration quickly creeps up my throat
and onto the floor.

Everyone says I thought highly of myself as each shot went down
smoother than the last.
What they don’t know is the only high I feel is from the remedy
that enters my lungs.

As I write this I realize this isn’t who I am.

The late nights, hungover mornings, and dreadful days.

I’ll stay on this destructive path until I decide otherwise.
But, until then all I can do is hope for easier mornings.

Savanna Brunelle