Light. It was painful to look at; my hangover was tremendous. My hair was matted to the side of my face, and my pillowcase had collected all of the eyeliner I had on from the night before.

It was December 4th. I was 18. I had no idea how I got back into my bed from the previous night. I had lost my keys. I was spitting out blood. I was supposed to go to Toronto on a shopping trip that day.

I went. I felt dead. I caught pneumonia from being outside in December with hardly any clothes on. I had already been getting over a case of Strep, and I had mistakenly mixed beer, cocktails, and whatever else I drank with my codeine. I started to remember; I first woke up on the floor of a dorm bathroom. A dorm that I didn't even live in.

I remembered a taxi, and someone tossing me inside. Later I would be told that my friends and I cleared the bar of Red Bull because we drank too many Red Bull and Vodka drinks. Later I would be told that some guy named Rob, whom I didn't even know, brought me to my room and graciously put me in my bed. Later this would come back to haunt me on my worst drinking nights. Later I would get kicked out of college.

Later I would be told I was an alcoholic.