Oh — I didn't even tell you. The other night when I was stuck in a K-hole in the kitchen, everyone kept coming in and saying are you okay but I couldn't say anything until Abby handed me a vial of coke and even then I can hardly tell what it was until she did it first, but then, thank you, rescued by cocaine although then of course I did way too much, smoking all this pot to try to fall asleep but I was just lying in bed after everyone else had already passed out. I guess it was the afternoon so maybe I had passed out a little bit but then I was awake again, gritting my teeth and the phone started ringing so I picked it up. It was Melissa and she was in a panic, telling me how horrible it was living in her house with her father, she would listen to him at night pacing the halls and she couldn't leave her room she was so scared. And then she kept almost saying what she wanted to stay, what I've been waiting for her to say, and I was trying to wait a little longer except then she switched topics and started telling me how the thing that hurts her the most is that she knows I don't want the same thing from her as she wants for me. And the ironic part is that right before that I really felt close to her, so close that it almost felt like we were the same person. Or, maybe not the same person but like I was there with her in that hallway, waiting for her father.
But then she was talking about how I don't want what she wants, that same conversation we had so many times in San Francisco which is even more annoying now since we’re living across the country from one another. Then at some point she was asking me why I wasn't saying much, and the truth is that I was trying to listen. In fact, I was listening so carefully that I could hear the sound of the wind blowing the blinds in her room up and down. But then when she asked that question, suddenly I just felt guilty that I was kind of strung out, and I didn't even have a chance to say that I was trying to sleep when she called, maybe I was even sleeping. And right then I realized how high I still felt, lying in bed feeling my body floating and maybe that was part of why it was hard to pay attention except it wasn't my body floating it was everything around me. And so I said: I know I should have told you this before, but I'm really high. And right then Melissa got really quiet, so quiet I could hear the humming of the phone. Then she said: Yes, you should have told me that earlier. Call me sometime when you're not high.
And then when I got off the phone I felt like a terrible terrible friend, maybe not even a friend just some drugged-out mess and when the hell was I really going to sleep so I started rummaging through my drawer for some Xanax even though doxepin helps more but I'm trying not to take that too much so I don't get addicted. So I snorted half a Xanax, oh I love that rush, swallowed another one and got back in bed—talk about floating on the ceiling and how can I still be this wired, how much coke did I do last night, maybe I should just get up, oh wait, yes, here's that soft sinking like there's a pillow all around my body and I don't even need to hold on, thank you.