you really got a hold on me | john lennon

CHAPTER SIXTY THREE

March 9th, 1961

The unmistakable sharp pounding in my head was the only thing I could easily take away from whatever was going on. With every second that passed, the strength of the throbbing all over my head intensified. But I suppose I couldn't really be surprised with what I was feeling when I remembered that I had drank myself away last night. 

I forced my eyes to stay closed to try and relieve all this ongoing pain—though it did nothing but make it worse as I thought of it more. Besides this obvious bit of a hangover I had, I was left far in the dark of what I had done last night. Much more than I was comfortable with...that I knew for sure. 

I couldn't even remember how many I had last night. Not even a mere estimate of it all came to mind. For all I knew, it could've been four of them...maybe even doubled that amount. But there wasn't any way for me to be absolutely certain. The last time I had gotten this pissed out of my mind was Christmas a whole year ago. A time when everything I had ever known was starting to crumble before my very eyes. All while I was forced to watch utterly defenseless, knowing I couldn't do a thing even if I wanted to. History does repeat itself I suppose—with another devasting loss for me to mourn, driving me to the pub. 

But something about this time seemed slightly different, though. Instead of feeling hopeless and defeated as I did last time something similar had happened...I felt content. Maybe even happy, dare I say it. 

Whatever it was that I had done after blacking out must've done wonders. Feeling like this seemed close to impossible after all the shite that had come my way. Almost as if all the weight of the world had been lifted off of my shoulders. I suppose it was only time for me to catch my lucky break one way or another. That somehow, I had managed to convince myself that I would be happier without John in the long run. It had taken me drinking almost the entire pub, but it still counted for something. 

Though the idea of being without John for the rest of my life still seemed to put on a bleak outlook on what was to come. And I think it would stay to be that way for some time before I could accept such a fate—one that had a possibility of being a blessing or a curse, depending how you saw it. 

As the pounding of my head persisted, I attempted to tune it all out by twisting and turning in bed endlessly just to make myself comfortable. Something about this bed just felt smaller than usual. I could've sworn that the bed I had back at George's flat was bigger than this. At least in my usual bed I could turn around whichever way I pleased. But here, every single way I tried turning to had absolutely no room left for me. Never would have thought I could be hallucinating this badly from a hangover, but there was a first for everything. 

After many failed attempts, I eventually gave up trying to find some other position and stayed how I was. Even if I felt uncomfortable to an overwhelming amount with where I was at the moment. But I wasn't going to add on to this horrid headache. It was too much to handle on top of everything else—so I just had to tough it out for a bit more. 

I slowly felt myself slowly drift off once more, until suddenly—I could make out the sensation of a pair of long arms wrapping around my waist as they brought me closer to whoever I was laying with. The familiar warmth and short-lived blitz of serotonin it gave me made my heart sink. What had I really done last night? How could I have done this? Even if I didn't remember a single thing of when I went out, there really was only one thing that would explain all this. That sudden surge of happiness. Since from what I knew, the only person who was able to make me feel like that was John. No matter how dark of ditch I was in. 

But after all John had done this week, I couldn't believe I was gullible enough to prove him right. I had run back to him just like he said I would. No matter how sloshed I was last night...none of that would matter. Because it only showed that deep down, I wanted him back more than anything. Even if I was the one to cut it off—for my own good at that, some part of me still regretted it. I truly did wish things had happened differently. And after all this effort I put into hiding that, it just had to come out.