No you’re not in church. You’re not witnessing a murder, and you’re definitely not having an orgasm. Those are just the words you utter during the morning recollections of last night.
These are the words you’re whispering to yourself or shouting aloud as you lie in bed, hands over your face, trying to hide from the memories.
Despite your best efforts, the images vividly seep through the cracks between your fingertips. You see yourself, all over again, doing those things you can’t believe you did and saying those things you can’t believe you said.
Why the f*ck did I say that? You most likely ask yourself aloud, or to your best friend sitting there as you nurse your hangover.
Why the f*ck did I text that? You delete the messages the same way you wish you could erase the hazy (yet, all too clear) memories. But even with a blank phone screen, the truth is still there, staring you in the face.
Rocktographer(Live Music Photographer), Motorsports & Beach Sports Photographer, based in Las Vegas & the Beach Cities in California; Website Developer, Food & Drink Photographer, Enthusiast and Critic with No-Sugar-Coating Reviews, Sports Handicapper, etc.
No longer on Facebook, due to being discriminated against for using Fake Names, unlike the 'Drag Queens' of the GLBT Community that are allowed to do so. I urge everyone that reads this to leave Facebook for easier use at ( http://www.TSU.co/SinCityExaminer ) & ( https://plus.google.com/+KevinSinCityExaminer )