My head feels foggy, and my body aches as my eyes flicker open to the bright lighting of the room. I half expect to hear beeping or bustle coming from outside the room, but alas, nothing but silence meets my ears. Pausing for a moment as I look around, I can't help but wonder where I am. I try to remember, but I'm met with a pounding ache in my head. I'm in no hospital room; it appears like a normal bedroom. Among the walls are pictures littered with memories of people I don't know; a desk sits centered with the bed I lay upon; it too has memories; and a laptop sits idle. I half attempt to get out of bed, taking note of the bed set that matches everything from the sheets to the pillows. Eventually, I stumble my way around the messy house filled with strangers memories and find the bathroom. I splash cold water on my face again and again until I sink to the floor and cry. The memories come flooding back—the screaming, the fighting, the breakup, and then the drinking. This is no strangers house; it was mine and theirs. A love once rooted so deep has now left me with an empty chest. As I let out a scream one thought bounced inside my pounding head.
I wish the hangover amnesia had lasted just a bit longer.
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