I'm so depressing

I turned around when I saw them, trying to make a quick exit out the front doors, but it was too late. I had been spotted by my crowd of friends, and they were all coming towards me now. Traitors.

I hiked up my smile in what I hoped was a friendly way, but I assume under the medication of narcotics it probably looked more like a " I'm going to bury you in my yard" kind of smile. I looked away from Jay's face quickly, terrified that the pain was too much to hide.

Luckily for me, it turned out I was allergic to codeine. So what should have been a couple hours of relaxation was quickly turning into a few hours of hell. I was too busy trying not to die in the hallways of the Nugget to pretend anything with anyone, so I avoided Jay entirely.

Wouldn't it be just my luck to die here, I thought, alone and crying in the one place I was trying to escape? I wasn't strong enough to run to the bathroom, so I satisfied myself by sitting somewhat near it and pleading with it to come closer to me. My only stroke of luck was that Jay had managed to stay away from the hallways until now, and had no idea I was out there half conscious and crying about our failed relationship.

My luck would prove to fail me again, however. I watched in pure agony as a stream of people began to flow out of the bowling alley. I knew there was no way someone would see me there and not stop, perhaps someone would even call 911. That would be a fun night, wouldn't it? Jay could spend the night with his skinny girlfriend, and I could go have my stomach pumped. Man, was I sexy or what?

It was my good friend Renee that realized I was in misery first. Stacy was right behind her, her hands across my love, shielding him as though I was poisonous. I prayed silently that they would stay at the end of the hall, maybe if I stayed still enough they would think I was part of the decor. Just a gross, dizzy, vomitted on statue.

Renee, however, was not stupid. She asked me what was wrong, but she didn't have to. She looked at me, looked at Jay, then realized what was going on. She was the best friend I could have asked for right then when she said,

" We'll just say you're sick. Let's go get some food." Food. It was as if angels were singing, holding hamburgers to their lips, and dancing with french fries. Naturally, I went with her and the crowd of Benedicts.

She asked me what exactly was going on, so I told her. I have no idea why I told her, when half the time I couldn't even admit it to myself. Yet saying it out loud was so liberating, especially while throwing a hamburger down my throat like it had threatened me. I pulled myself together after that, remembering that I wasn't completely alone.