I will never ever ever drink again as long as I live today

My seis de mayo is off to a rough start. I wasn't actively celebrating cinco de mayo by drinking An Enormous Amount of Adult Beverages; it was just run-of-the-mill drinking that happened to fall on cinco de mayo. But now I'm paying for it. My usual hangover cure of gatorade and a banana have done the trick and allowed me to at least function on a basic, non-vomiting level. But I'm still feeling a little dizzy and out of it, and almost reduced to a vomiting just by recounting the things I did and said and whose hands ended up on whose asses.

This is the worst part of the day after drinking for me: the regret. As I've said before, I'm a pretty regretful person in the first place, so getting alcohol to completely shut down whatever already-meager system of thats-a-bad-idea in my brain is...a bad idea in its own right. Like everyone else, I've said, "I'll never drink again" plenty of times, but it's not the pain and nausea that I mind; it's when it hits me that I actually did say that. And then I blush, even though I'm alone, and I swear to the God of my ceiling that alcohol is no longer any part of my life. It's days like today when it makes sense that so many religions make their followers give up drinking. Every drop of it is clearly from the devil's distillery and brew haus.

What does the 6th of May look like when you're not hungover? That's something I will never ever know, and it will eat me up inside for as long as I live.