Wet n' Wild (Day 9)

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 Monday, July 3

When I wake up, I have a massive headache, pounding and throbbing from my hangover.

Just kidding. That's what I should have woken up to, but I was too innocent last night, too naive, like a deer in headlights. I was the Debbie Downer of the day, the one unenthusiastic person in the party. Would Luke still like me now, now that he's seen this side of me? He's always been so adventurous and daring, so I'm not quite sure that my cautiousness and blandness will sit well with him.

Why am I thinking about him?, I seethe. Somehow, even when he's not here, everything is still all about him.

I throw the pillow over my face. If I had just gone out and danced last night, like any normal teenager, the whole episode of last night wouldn't have happened.

But no, I have to stop pinning the blame on myself. Something still nags at the back of my mind.

Even though I was the reason for the fight, Luke was the one that jumpstarted it all. As a good boyfriend, he shouldn't have pressured me to drink. If he hadn't, I might have stayed on the dance floor and nothing would have ever happened.

I know that I'm being irrational right now, but I couldn't care less. I just need a good reason to blame someone.

This is all Luke's fault, I tell myself sternly, refusing to acknowledge the fallacy of my logic. He's going to have to prove to me that he's the one for me if he wants to be forgiven. He's going to have to earn my love back.

I find myself reaching for the phone a few times, ready to call him and ask if he's alright, but I refrain from doing so.

It's all so confusing for me right now as I slump over in my bed. I'm not sure if I should be angry that he pressured me or worried about his injuries or grateful that he came to my defense.

I have to admit grudgingly that even though he acted extremely annoying, pushing that alcohol into my face, he redeemed himself by coming over to fight for me. Always the knight in shining armor, I think drily.

Then there's the pesky situation of Renee. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to approach her about her complaints last night, but I'm spared for now, as she probably won't be waking up for awhile.

My fingers itch to do something, so I grab a random book and flip through the pages. A photograph falls out of it- the one of my family at Disneyland.

My fingertips trace the lines on my dad's face- the creases at the corners of his eyes and the laugh lines that I know so well. My mother looks so young and happy, and I think back to those days when we were all one happy family.

I swallow the lump in my throat and place the picture on my nightstand. "I miss you, Daddy," I say.

When I pick up the book again, Emma by Jane Austen, it feels infinitely heavier. I flip to the first page, but it cannot keep my attention.

I place the book back down and reach for a piece of paper. I'm not quite sure what to do with it, but somehow it seems satisfying to look at this blank sheet and know that I'm going to transform it.

I sketch a bit before scratching my drawings out. I have drawn three sets of eyes, and quite honestly, they freak me out.

I set the point of the pencil back onto the paper and zone out, letting it move on its own free will.

When I break from my reverie and look down, I'm surprise to see I've filled a good half of the page in scribbles.

When I look closer, I realize they are song lyrics.

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