#41 | a memory
one night 3 years ago, I got too high at a friend's apartment and started to get anxious and green out. I called her, mumbling. I don't feel good. she suggested I go to her place, so I stepped into the night and took a car there, blankly watching chinatown pass by and then finding myself across the east river, staring at the entrance to her building. she was already in the lobby and ready to lead me upstairs by the hand. her apartment was so warm. what would help you right now? she asked. I peeled off all my clothes and crawled into her bed, unkempt, losing motor function. please just hold me. she wrapped her arms around my body as I closed my eyes and took deep breaths, her gravity stilling the tingling of my skin and pulling my wayward mind back to earth. I focused on the sensation of being surrounded by her, on the fact that she was someone who would always listen to anything I said, no matter how strange, and make sense of it. she asked me what I was thinking about. you're made of stars, I murmured into her chest, and promptly sunk into a deep sleep.