Hangover By Mel Oliveira

I am taken away from a state of unconscious confusion by the turbulent blah blah blah of my off sync alarm clock radio. As I sit in bed I feel the whole room spin around me, and my liver – or whatever is left of it – promptly reminds me that I am hungover.

Memories of the previous night and the feeling that I have a dirty sock in my mouth stimulate my first conscious thought of day, which is soon followed by my first ‘holy fuck’.

After sitting up and lying down another 10 times, wondering if I should quit my job just to sleep a little longer, I get up and head to the shower. I stop at the kitchen on the way and drink a bottle of water with a handful of aspirins. The dry saliva in my mouth, caused by the alcoholic dehydration, in contact with the water creates a thick goo that makes me force myself to walk faster so I can wash it out in the bathroom.

I step into the shower and set the water to boiling hot, even if a part of my brain keeps insisting that I should take a cold shower. The same part of my brain, I should add, that in days like this tries to convince me to quit smoking, never drink again and join the church.

After finishing my shower and cutting myself several times while trying to shave, I look at myself in the mirror and see my reflection giving me a look of disappointment and pity.

I get dressed and look at myself in the mirror again. I look like crap. My boss, who already doesn’t like me, will be making jokes and sarcastic remarks all day again, and there won’t be anything I can do besides smile and pretend my head isn’t about to explode.

I find my keys somewhere on the floor, and on my way to the door I hear the familiar sound of a new text message.

Tonite clubbing! Lots of girls! Dress sharp pick u up at 10. J.’

I read the jumbled message and smile. Today might not be too bad after all. Tomorrow can always be worse.

---Bio: Mel Oliveira is a techie that loves to read and write stories. She is Brazilian but lives in The Netherlands with her boyfriend.