remember that time when i called you so drunk
so fucking drunk the nerve! what a fucking idiot. we had only gone out like what, once?
i had gotten so drunk and i felt like i was going to pass out. my room was pitch black and the ac was blasting and i felt like i was going to throw up so of course my drunk head couldn't come up with any better idea than calling you at 3 in the morning. and i called you and i ranted on and on, i was so drunk and your voice pulled me back to earth and i felt myself melt into my pillow and i started crying thinking about matias and that was the first time i told you about him, crying and i think that's the only time you've heard me cry in those 8 months of being with each other and your voice was like an anchor, and all the while i kept thinking why the hell is this girl talking to me anyway? why hasn't she hung up yet. what's going on? who am i even talking to? oh right, sol. and i had other people to talk to but i chose you, for some reason, and it was like it was all sealed, as if my blood was screaming that if this girl picked up at 3am then boy, was she worth whatever mess was going to follow after come morning.
and remembering those things are so surreal because i still remember the feel of your comforter, the blinking city lights up on your rooftop, the streets at night completely empty and falling asleep on your shoulder on a barely occupied bus. i can still see you vivid in front of me like a ray of sunlight peeping in through a closed up room whenever a posh old lady from palermo passes by sporting your perfume, your breath coated in alcohol, your mouth on my neck. and maybe the details of your face and the outline of your curls aren't that strong anymore but then they're there and you are right there in front of me and god, do i want some closure so bad but i don't think i ever will with anyone ever and it sucks