Like dying, I imagine
"I wonder if this is what dying is like," I said as I turned to her. I had about four shots down the hatch, some foul-tasting organic vodka.
She turned up from her book. "What do you mean?" she asked. Her hair was done up differently than normal, a cute little half-bun at the nape of her neck, and it drove me wild. She was a good friend, but damn, I would've done anything for her to be more than that at that minutes.
I can't remember the exact words I used. At that time, my cognitive brain was struggling with the clouding effects of the alcohol, which is exactly what I meant when I asked the question. I could literally feel the alcohol taking hold in my brain, and as I explained my philosophical views on the subject, I could feel myself sinking into the depths of drunkeness.
Like dying, I imagine.
Have you ever felt yourself falling asleep? I have only once. As I lay there in bed, my mind was still active, yet I could feel myself falling, or maybe sinking, lower into myself. It was possibly the strangest thing I've ever felt.
I explained this story in my half-drunkeness. Later in the night (before writing my "blog") I tried my best to seduce her. It failed, naturally; She was used to my tricks.
Not that it matters, really.
The remains of that disgusting organic vodka are beckoning.