I roll my eyes in exasperation and frustration gazing at the lightly tanned, brown- haired girl with brown eyes staring back at me, glaring in the mirror.

Vanessa is my roommate. She’s a tall beautiful brunette with blue eyes and nicely figured cheekbones. We had always got along, but lately she had been too busy to pay any attention to me. Therefore, it had angered me! I felt abandoned by her at my most vulnerable time. I’m not a needy person- I never really have been- I just needed someone now more than ever. My life changed so quickly and drastically; it was like one second I was on the light fluffy part of a pancake and suddenly someone flipped it to the burnt side.

I think Vanessa had finally realized something was the matter because as I entered the living room she sat up instantly from being huddled on the couch.

“Lexi, sit down. I feel like we haven't talked in forever. How about I make it up to you?! Come on, put on a jacket. I’ll meet you in the car,” she added.

I had no idea where Vanessa was dragging me to. The roads were clear as we drove to our designated destination.
Our destination was a bar. I had never been a drinker, so I decided I’d have only one or two drinks as a way to thank Vanessa for driving us out here.
With the alcohol fighting to leave my body, I surrender and find my way to the restroom. I look flushed and slightly unfocused.
I wait at the bar for another drink before returning to the table.
“Where were you? You left me for so long.” scolded Vanessa.
“I was in line for the restroom. I think I should step outside to get some fresh air.”
“Lexi, you can’t handle,” teased Vanessa.
“I’ll be back in five minutes.” I answered flat.
I make my way through the crowd in an attempt to go out. I am beginning to feel light headed a bit and my body feels unsteady. After what seemed like a few minutes I returned to the bar.
“Ready to go?” I asked Vanessa.
“Oh come on! Already?” she exclaimed.

I shrug apologetically and with that she gets up and we exit the bar and head to Vanessa’s blue Honda car. On the drive home I feel my body move more easily with every brake and turn Vanessa makes. I lean my head to my side against the window in an attempt to have more sturdy control over my vigorously motioned body. I give up and duck down putting my hands crossed slightly below my abdomen and my head tilted facing my knees.
“You okay there?” I hear.

I am too tired and all I can seem to respond is a simple, “mhm.”
We arrive home.
‘Oh the sweet sweet comforts of home’ I think to myself.
I stumble my way a bit clumsier than normal to my bed.

I wake the next morning with a headache and feeling far queasier than last night. I manage to get out of bed and make my way to our small kitchen to replenish myself with a drink of water. It’s a refreshing feeling to have the ice cold water run down my throat. I head back to my bed and decide I’ll spend the rest of my day here.
A few days pass since the day Vanessa took me out to drink. I’ve been sober since that day, but my body seems to be the only sober thing. I can’t seem to help but want to go back.

‘Just one last time,’ I tell myself.

On my way back to the bar with Vanessa I remember how sick I had gotten last time we came. With that thought in mind I decided it’d be best if I just engaged myself in one drink to get this wild temptation over with.
It is well over ten at night when we show up at the bar. I start off with three beers and from that point, I know I was preposterous for attempting to limit myself to only one drink.

  I am unaware of the time we leave, but it can’t be past probably one in the morning yet.
“Why didn’t you drink with me?” I blush at Vanessa.

“Who’d be driving if I did, right?” she says simply.

We arrive to our apartment and I repeat the same routine as last time we came from the bar. I wake up about two hours later from the time I had gone to sleep. It feels as if my body is just about ready to regurgitate every drop of alcohol in my system. I head for a drink of water in the kitchen and then head straight to the restroom. With no fluids leaving my body I make my way slowly back to my room to try and continue my sleep.

I lay awake in the morning on my bed thinking and wondering to myself. I thought about alcohol. I thought about how alcohol made me feel these last couple of times. It was as if it had helped compensate my life. It was like I had almost entirely succumbed to it. Before I took my first drink I was faced with dealing with the realities of life, but after my last drink it was like nothing but living in that infinite second mattered. I shook my head and rolled my eyes in disgust in regard to my thoughts.

‘I’m idiotic’ I thought.

I began to take note of how alcohol worked for me though. How it made me forget and feel free, how it made me unaware of time, how it felt as if I’d pass out opposed to falling asleep, how the vivid moments of life would slip through my fingers, how it would have slightly more control over me than I had of myself.

I didn’t want alcohol and I sure as hell didn’t need it! I just needed to find a better way to distract myself. Yes, that was all I needed.

That same weekend Vanessa found time out of her busy schedule to accompany me to the mall. The days that followed were packed with things to keep me distracted. More shopping, reading, watching more movies, attempting to make Dr Seuss’ famous green eggs and ham; the list was endless! None gave me that feeling like alcohol did though. None had the ability to affect me as much as alcohol did.

I was mad. Yes; mad that I had alcohol impact me in such a way. Mad that it was now my favorite way to get things out of my head for a while. I scowled at myself all the while blasting Guns n Roses and heading to my room to sleep it off.

The next day Vanessa had already left for work in the morning so I headed straight to the kitchen to make myself more green eggs and ham since I had proudly mastered it so well. I then went on with my day by reading quotes online specifically about alcohol.

“I am alive and drinking beer. -Charles Bukowski,” it said.

I had never heard of this man, but his quote caused me to smirk.

I quickly was drawn into them and had one stand out far more than any other.

It read, “I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness, and a dread of some strange impending doom.”

I paused and thought. My sorrows were never drowning with alcohol because they knew how to swim; I just hadn’t remembered. I don’t know what there was about this quote, but I sat there staring blankly at the computer screen for a good ten minutes.

Now I have come to understand those who carry a flask in their pocket, a liquor bag in one hand, or a bottle under an arm. I have grown and I have experienced it all myself. It’s been two years since I first stepped into a bar with Vanessa. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll still have a drink here and there, but now I understand. Now I know the feeling of what people seem to talk so deranged about.