I lay in bed feeling heavy bass reverberating through the street from a house party in close proximity. Those boisterous cheers and subsequential clapping in sync to the beat have me rather envious.
A part of me longing to carouse alongside the youth. Dressed in a short playsuit and ridiculously uncomfortable heels and made up with red lipstick and blackened eyes. To have spent a Saturday night revelling rather than retiring to bed regretting my decision to overindulge in the standard buffalo wings and pizza meal. I’d rather be dazed on alcohol than feeling bloated and sorry for myself.
Oh to be nineteen again.
I wish I could turn back time and be young. But then I recall how even back then I pinned for such nights; since I wasn’t the kind of girl who was invited to soirees to begin with.