It's 3:30 AM and I'm sitting in a shitty little diner doing my homework, because what the hell else would I be doing at 3:30 AM on a Saturday? What was I doing the night before? Don't I care about any of this school shit? And more importantly, don't I care about being a proper adult, the kind that goes to bed at a decent time and definitely doesn't go to a diner at an unreasonable hour and buy illicit things on the dark, scary internet? Who the fuck am I?
A website I don't trust anymore just told me I write like Cory Doctorow. Who is that? And why does he write like me? There are so many uncertain things this early in the morning. For example, how many waitresses have come and gone since I got here, and who, if any of them, remembers that I paid for coffee AND a tea, damnit. Both cups are empty.
Fortunately, my brain doesn't really care too much- it's been buzzing along happily without refills, which is I guess proof that medication works. On me, anyway. If I could get high off my own prescriptions, I'd be pretty fucked pretty soon. S'all I'm sayin'.
Earlier, I went out for a smoke and it was way too cold outside for anyone, and I had a really awkward imaginary conversation with my boyfriend and some guy I went out with for a terrifying week a long time ago. In my mind, I was walking through the mall with my boyfriend, and a guy stopped, like he recognized me, and said "Hey! Meghan!"
In my mind, we stopped walking. I looked at the person who had called me, and I struggled for a moment to place him while my bf looked at me with a curious look on his face.
And then, oh no. No, it wasn't. Fuck. It WAS. It was HIM. THAT GUY.
I remembered that guy.
Since he clearly remembered me, and since we'd all stopped walking and were now staring at each other in an awkward little triangle, I thought I'd better say something.
So I said, as cheerily as I could, "Hey!"
And then we exchanged (un)pleasantries while my brain yelled out things about drugs and bad decisions. I was perfectly enthusiastic, totally normal, and not at all as legitimately terrified as I was. Because I would be, if I ever did run into him again. It would all come back, and I'd have to look at Past-Meghan again and we really didn't get along.
This all sounds much worse than it is.
Anyway, after we'd finished up and went on our separate ways, my bf turned to me and asked "so, what the fuck?"
And I told him, while my brain cringed inside my skull. I'd imagine my hands were probably shaking a bit at this point.
And then I was outside again, smoking in the freezing cold outside a shitty diner so early in the AM it was still dark. My everything was numb, and my cigarette was disgusting. I ground it out with my boot, and went back inside.
