Today, I'm pale. Okay, paler than usual. Washed out. My hands look thin and my face looks a bit too wethered for someone of only twenty. I have very harsh bags under my eyes, and despite many attempts, I can't shift the pub stamp from my hand, or the taste of tequila out of my mouth. Dirty shoes, random walks and yes, the undeniable sense of regret. Stupidity may become my middle name. My head is banging, and all I want is my bed, and a rewind button. The latter, I'm afraid isn't possible, although I thoroughly wish it was. I think I've fucked things up, but I'm trying to assure myself, it's nothing too drastic. We'll see. My binge isn't something I should be celebrating, but I can't help myself, I just want to laugh. I'm a little bit out of hand.