The Things We Do For Happiness

I'm not crazy, just a little messed up.

I'm done with this. I'm gonna go out and drown my misery.

It's 12 am, as I walk into the room with strobing lights, playing the most outrageously loud music that I can barely hear my own thoughts.

'Arlo, are you okay?'

'You know we have school tomorrow and if they find out about this...'

Because I haven't even realised but I'm chugging on glasses of Champaign. 

I'm not mentally conscious when I say this but I do.

'I'm not crazy, just a little messed up'.

Another shot to drown it out, to end all my mental chaos, I'm gonna be fine, ecstatic actually in the moment. 

The music is still throbbingly loud in my ears, and I think Emaline may be screwing with my liver now. But I'm so over this rollercoaster.

The blue lights entangle with my vision, but who needs to see? I just need to be fine.

In the next few seconds, my mom calls me 'Arlo, what are you doing?' 

'I'm sorry mom, I'mma have to hit you after, I'm stuck in Champaign showers'.

Out of the thin air, or what it feels like to me, there's this girl dancing infront of me, don't know who she is but I don't care.

She's immensely energetic,  I seem to be too, with all this tequila and lime. I can't tell the minutes from seconds at this point, but I know we dance and that we're dancing. 

My head throbs a bit harder, I feel it all burning in my chest, and my thoughts are wild. 

Suddenly, I slightly drop to the floor,  with one of my knees landing with a 'thump' on the unyielding floor. She stops. 

Woah, she was more than just a robot dancing with me.

'You okay?' she asks, with seemingly sincerity.

'I don't know' I say while being surprised I can say that considering all the chaos I put my liver under.

Then she helps me onto a couch nearby, and sits next me but there's still a decent amount of distance between us.

'What's your name?' I ask even though I know I'll forget tomorrow.

She laughs, like I said something stupid. 'Does it matter?'

'What?'

'All I'm saying is will it make a difference a week from now, or will you know who I was tomorrow when you're sober?'

'Probably not'. I reply honestly.

'So Mr.losing it, what has made you like this?'

'Emal (I almost say before realising she's a stranger who knows nothing about me), there's this girl who let's just say...rejected me and now I've finally come to terms with it and this is my way of ummn feeling better'.

Strangely, she's not the slightest bit fazed.

'And how is that going?'

'Bro, honestly like I feel messed up, like for example I'm talking to this stranger about intensely personal things. But I'm drunk and I don't care.

Like Emaline, she's insane. She doesn't care about what I'm going through anymore, but she never really gets over me'.

I look at her expression and am worried about what she's thinking.

So I quickly respond to her thoughts with 'I'm not crazy, I'm just a little messed up'.

'That's not what I was thinking'

'In a sense this is good, you're getting out, you're putting yourself first for once'.

A sense of relief flows through me, I'm not crazy, just a little messed up and I'll be fine. And now I finally believe it.