Vodka has never been a friend to me. Nothing good has materialized from our numerous mingling. But every time I think about her, who I thought was a dear friend, I prefer some more Vodka. When I woke up on his bed with a pounding headache, the text messages on my phone spelt trouble. The ride home seemed longer than usual; perhaps it was my mind delaying the displeasing intervention. Ph had already left for work sparing me from delivering an explanation to her.Relieved as I was, it infuriated me as well. There is nothing more despondent than having to lie about something that you are proud of. It’s not the Vodka or the hangover, but Him. But the backbone of my life is a circle.Welcome aboard.