Dots

Day after the eruption,

hours and hours tucked away in bed,

last nights naughty long behind; just like the lingering scent of alcohol fading away.

time drags,  The Comfort hour.

Then rhythm of life slowly flows back to you, and every nerve on you’re body feels it.

Bombarded by the head spin. the quick pace of contact lens. brushing teeth. blowing hair. eyeliner. shadow earring. Reborn.

Life comes back to you, the checkoff list, suddenly life seemed to be right under you’re control; people wave hi to you in class and you smile in secrecy, they have no clue where you went last night.

By the end of the day, you unconsciously count down the hours that soon closes the twentyfour hours to eruption. By then, you ate dinner with friends, roamed around school, checked off you’re to-do list, It’s like the day before never happened.

“That’s why I live in the moment” he says, “Let it move through you because it won’t last.”

 

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