oneword: blackout

Strange how oneword can sum up my entire junior year of college. I should be poetic. I should be able to relate this word to some sort of haughty metaphor, and then swing back and implicitly tie it back to my life, all the while maintaining a distance in tone that will let me attack myself as if I were someone else.

The only memories I have left are, sadly, the early morning phone calls to someone who would understand. And the crying. There was a lot of that.

And still, there are times when I find it hard to drink and stop myself. I don't make as many stupid mistakes because I can't let myself go back to what I was.

But the truth is, I am terrified. Every time I hold a beer in my hand, or I take a shot, I am just scared.