9 Jan 2009


And I wonder if I am making this all up, somewhere confused with memory, of the day she saved me. I seem to recall that I was drunk one night, especially drunk. I was depressed for some reason (for which probably would mean very little to me now), and it was college. So it was off to a fraternity party of some random greek letter combination, and lots and lots of beer. Perhaps there were shots of some stronger stuff; the night was pretty much a lost one. When I woke up, on one of the couches in the living room, there she was, hovering above me. A bit of the halo of morning light around her, that being probably caused by the fact that I was still buzzed from the night before. She said that they had been worried about me, and she had volunteered to see if I stopped breathing at any point, or began to choke on my own vomit, or tried to have sex with a power outlet. She looked tired. She was so beautiful…. Or maybe all of that’s fake, a dream I forgot was a dream.

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:01 am

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