when you hit 2 am and find yourself curled on your bathroom floor under a throw blanket, groping for a glass of water to rinse that taste out of your mouth, then burrowing back into your small rug. that combination of comfort and discomfort, that craving to return to bed combined with the worry that when you do you’ll just be running to be right back where you are, not to mention that the cold tile and tiny rug are strangely just right for staying right there for ever. and just as a disclaimer, no alcohol was involved in the trajectory leading to this point – in fact, we are unsure what bump on that road got me to this point. here’s to hoping i make it out of this alive.
You Know It’s a Bad Night When