October 30, 2011
After around two hours at a party, the way I carry myself is undeniably different from the time I walked in. I’ve never considered myself much of a drinker, until the launch of my senior year. I had never truly appreciated the illustrious taste of beer, or it could have been only because I was exposed to some of the more ghastly ones. During my senior year, I attended tons of parties. Most of them were always hosted by the fellow alcoholic teenagers, which supplied the cheapest beer they could get hold of. I can recall filling my cup with the foamy cold beer that poured from the tap, and sipping it for hours. After a few hours at a party, I would realize that I was the most sober one there.
On my way to a party or a club I am completely sober. I am aware of the surroundings around me, and I am capable of walking in a straight line. When I speak, my language is pretty much perfect and everyone has a clear understanding of what I am trying to say. In my mind I know what exactly is going on and concentrating on something is easy. Knowing that I am on my way to a party, I tend to get excited. I am usually lively and manic; realizing that I will finally be having fun after all the work I had done during the week. As I continue to make my way to my destination, I am aware that the way I feel and think will most likely alter by the end of the night.
Once I reach my destination, I start the night off with a couple drinks. Allowing the alcohol to enter my stomach only begins the side effects. After finishing the first few drinks it is evident ,from my physical features, that I have been drinking. I notice that the color of my cheeks change from a peach tint to bright red. By continuing to poison my system other physical effects begin to happen, such as a slouching posture. Around a half an hour after my cheeks turn a different color, my head begins to grow heavy. I usually swing it around slowly with...