I wake up slowly, letting the headache wash over me. The ancient blinds let in little shafts of sunlight, making me cringe and pull the sheets back over my head. As I remember the night before, I grab my phone off the nightstand and check my texts. Seventeen new texts, almost all from her. Fuck. I can still smell her scent on the sheet and see a smear of makeup on the pillow.

I get up and stumble towards the medicine cabinet and grab some aspirin; a habit in the making. Why always me? I seem to fall for the wrong girls, everytime. She was just a naive girl who thinks she fell in love for the first time. Just like all the other ones.

I swallow the aspirin and chase them down with a swig from the open wine bottle and crash back into bed. There’s nothing like a beautiful morning to make me hate the way I hate myself. I’m getting the fuck back to sleep.