“I need the loo again,” I said. I really wanted to be out of that room. The tequila had hit me and the walls were warping, my feet not moving properly. Plus, emotions were getting on top of me—confusion at Jessica’s behavior, at everyone’s behavior, and numb sadness at my apparent invisibility.

I stumbled upstairs, and, when I found the bathroom locked, I opened a random door and found myself in Eric’s bedroom. It smelled as though Lynx laced the blue wallpaper; the scent of his stale sheets pierced my nostrils upon entering. I closed the door and dropped to the carpet. The music thumped through my thighs and I lay my head against the wall, feeling it spin circles around my skull. I heard shrieks and laughter over the heavy bass, and felt the veil descend once more, between me and my peers. The sudden sense of detachment. I briefly fantasized about killing myself, right there, on Eric’s carpet. But, even with the tequila sloshing around me, my therapist’s words echoed in my head and brought me back.

“Remember death is a very permanent solution for a temporary feeling,” she’d said, time and time again. “Distract yourself. Wait the feeling out. Keep yourself busy because it will be temporary.”