you're drinking what they're selling

Last night I drank alcohol for the first time. Ever.

Yes, I do know that I'm currently nineteen and that most people my age have been drunk countless times. I am also aware that I'm pathetic.

I drove home after they were sure that I was completely sober, and still managed to get completely and utterly lost. I ended up on the West Side, when I was already on the East Side and just needed to get further East. I saw a sign for Mt. Vernon and nearly started crying, going, "Where the hell am I?!"

I called my mom, freaking out on the phone to her, telling her that I had absolutely no idea where I was. I flipped out and started crying when I parked the car at the Hacienda. She talked me into finding the Wal-Mart and this very nice lady went outside and pointed to the stop light, told me to go straight on that, then go to the second one and turn straight and it would take me all the way through Newburgh.

She was right and I was fine. I'm completely hopeless when it comes to know what I'm doing, when I'm driving. I'm so glad that I didn't die or something, though.

Today my father was drunk and acting like an idiot. I came into the kitchen to put something away and he said something along the lines of, "look at Amanda, acting like she's all better than everyone else." So I turned to him and said, "No, I'm pissed because you're drunk and it's annoying the hell out of me."

I used to be scared shitless of my dad. Now that he's old and gotten completely idiotic (it's the crystal meth, says my mother), he doesn't scare me so much. Just annoys the fuck out of me.

It's always been that way with my dad, though. He's always been a drunk. I have vague memories of waking up in the middle of the night to find my dad with friends over, dancing on the table. He used to get violent. He tried to kill my mother when I was in the eight grade. When I was in the fifth grade, my parents forced me to see a therapist and my doctor prescribed me with Zoloft.

My dad loved that. He would always make fun of me for needing anti-depressants. Because, of course, we all know that being depressed is one, huge joke.

When I was younger, I thought that drinking was a horrible thing. I would never, ever drink and told everyone that it was bad. I think if my younger self had seen me last night, I probably would've gotten slapped in the face.

Not that there really is anything wrong with drinking, because there isn't. I didn't do anything wrong, I had one and a half drinks and got a little tipsy, I think, but that's it.

I just don't know if I should ever do it again.