I don’t know what happened last night.
SOMETHING happened, clearly. The not knowing HOW something happened is the problem that is troublesome.
I guess I was just drunk. I didn’t mean to be, and by all accounts I shouldn’t have been. The last thing I remember is making friends with Vincent in the resort pool.
There’ve been reports on the news and on the internet lately about Mexican resorts tampering with their alcohol to get patrons more drunk to take advantage of them. I don’t know if that’s what happened. All I know is I’m not happy, and she’s not happy.
It didn’t happen to her. It must have been me. But how?
I wish my head would stop hurting.
I’m sorry. I wish I could say that to her. She’s still asleep. That’s good. Please sleep and let me disappear.
I’d be better off dead. No more me to cause any trouble. She’d find someone; she’s still young and pretty.
I’m sorry, world. I’m just a disappointment. I wish there was another way.