the most important party i ever went to

driving for miles and miles. tiredness like a heartache. drinking glass after glass after glass. dark rooms. padded hotel corridors. retching convulsively onto the pavement and into the bushes. laughing maniacally at the slightest thing. lighting cigarettes at the wrong end. a haze of smoke clouding judgement. stumbling into disconnected lifts, sticking out an arm to search for something to hold on to. we can make it, just a little further. scribbling notes with a nail polished hand. where's my skirt! loud explosions. the decadent feel of plastic.

We held on to each other for balance, trying to tug ourselves back home. But really we were holding on to each other for support.

you look shattered, she said. can people see right through me?