Case of the Berks

I got sick from drinking, told secrets, wanted to be fucked by strangers, and had to be carried up the stairs by friends. I ate spicey things, walked in the morning, didn't shower, forgot to brush my teeth, and waited in long lines for sweet treats. Berkeley is "the other man" that stole my heart from San Francisco. I love both cities, but Berkeley holds that inexplicable communal feeling. Everyone is just everyone. We slept on the floor of an overcrowded room for 4.5 nights and drank sickeningly sweet vodka from the bottle. The alcohol purged me of any and all secrets that had been spiraling around inside of me. I had apparently missed someone so much that it became panicking and painful for him to leave my space. I confessed other peoples' love for them and found it hard to leave the pipe alone. I didn't feel anything for once- I didn't feel anything in just the right amount. As uncomfortable as I was at points, I didn't question why I was in Berkeley for no real reason. We had just found ourselves there- packed in the car with a Trader Joe's bag of assorted chips and granola bars. I like the simplicity of Berkeley, how everything seems to be within reach. I have the best friends a girl could ask for.