Hangover, part II

No, I don’t want to go for a walk. Yes my hangover is really that bad, and can you not just leave me alone to savor my miserable hungover existence? I don’t want to be happy and sunny right now. I’d actually love nothing more than to enjoy my self-pitying…well, self. My head feels as though it has been encased in wood and tiny splinters have pierced my brain so that everything is just fuzzy shards of this reality. And I guess it’s masochistic, but in some screwed up way, I’m laughing. There’s something kind of beautiful in being hungover.