10:00 am. My throat was dry. I ran my tongue over my cracked lips and had the feeling if I didn’t get water now, I would keel over. I lifted my head; a teeth clenching pain just filled my body. I plopped my head back onto the pillow and closed my eyes, but my thirst for water did not go away. Honestly, I was dying for it. Gritting my teeth I pushed myself off the inhospitable air mattress and half dragged myself to the door and stumbled into the kitchen where I hastily grabbed a cup of water. Slinking back into bed, I curled up into a ball of covers and closed my eyes again, mainly to avoid another tidal wave of pain. As I laid in my glorious discomfort, I tried to think about last night. Instead of last night, I met the back of my eyelids.

I could hear the whispers of my friends as they were starting to stir. I refused to acknowledge any of them. I just hurt too much. One of my friends called to me to see if I was awake. I wiggled my arm in agreement. As soon as my arm waved in the air they started laughing, telling me to come over to them. Restraining my groan of protests I sat up and crawled over to where one of my best friends was laying on the couch. Cheery and absolutely filled with happiness today my beloved friends asked me the million dollar question: if I remembered anything of last night.

My answer was no.

Lucky for them, they had a wonderful time last night, and I happened to be the center of most of their entertainment. Not that I’m complaining I’m sure I had a blast last night too, I just can’t remember most of it.

Or like any of it.

First, all four of my friends whipped out their phones. Classic twenty first century move.
One of them shouts, “You are not going to believe what you did last night!”

And with that lovely statement, a horrible feeling started creeping up my spine. I sat up straight, ignoring my poor pounding head and snatched a phone from the closest friend.
Stupid. I am totally, incredibly stupid.

The bad feeling I had was suddenly replaced with that what-in-the-world-were-you-thinking type of feeling. They say pictures are worth a thousand words. Well, there were three, so that must mean I had three thousand words written all over my face. That’s a powerful message. And wait—it gets better. Not only were there three beautiful photos of me from last night’s party, but apparently I told my ex-boyfriend that I loved him; that I loved him, like really deeply in love with him. Apparently I told him about five times too, just to stir the pot a little. Was I just added to the crazy ex-girlfriend list? Yes. Yes, I was. Do I remember mentioning this to him last night? No. No, I don’t.

My initial reaction to these revelations was complete embarrassment. I mean, I just told my ex-boyfriend, whom I broke up with about eight months ago that I truly loved him. Maybe I still had feelings for him that I didn’t acknowledge or care about, so during my downwards spiral throughout the night, those feelings resurfaced. I knew that I had just made a complete idiot of myself, and seemed like an obsessive jerk. I was now concerned about going to school two days later. I knew I would have to face my embarrassment someday soon, so I needed to be prepared.

My second reaction was shame. It shocked me that I had been persuaded to stoop as low as the depths of chaos. Especially, since I originally prided myself in my capability for extreme self-control at these festivities. I was furious with myself for losing control, and for being like everyone else. But I couldn’t berate myself any longer; once realization slowly settled in I figured I only had two options: to cry and be embarrassed forever about my actions, or I can brush off this “experience” and continue living. I knew I couldn’t hide away forever. I had to face my fears and embarrassments in public and deal with the consequences of my actions.

The second I saw my ex, embarrassment ran over me like a hot poison, but I kept my cool. Keeping my head straight, I pretended everything was perfect, even though I avoided him like the plague. He whispered a snide comment when I walked by, but I pretended I heard nothing. Once the weeks flew by my embarrassment disintegrated and my confidence grew. I had just come to terms with my mistakes and realized that I couldn’t let something like a few pictures and a ridiculous “I love you” out of context bother me. The more time that passed the more I appreciated this little story.

If this horrible situation had taught me anything, I learned that confidence means everything. As long as I showed that nothing bothered me, nothing would actually bother me. Things happen, time goes by very quickly, and I’ll grow up, and when I do, I’m sure that in my future I will have many more incidents such as this one.

There is one last thing I forgot to mention, one that’s more important than anything else, and that I especially learn from this situation: never drink from two cups at the same time. It results in madness.