Last night, I put my shoes back on and rested my glasses back across my nose and went for a little drive with the intent of driving some drunk people home from the pub. I put my new big hippo teddy Horatio on the passenger seat beside me and buckled him up all nice and safe and sang along to my silly little playlist of quiet little songs and coughed my lungs up to the point where I just couldn't anymore (and then some). One of them was Alana, a twenty-something year old girl that I've never really known or taken to or had much in common with but I've had a cautious interest in her these past few months because she only just revealed less than a year ago that the gender on her passport's changed and she's not Paddy anymore. I want to tell her that I think she's really brave in this sad little town for being who she wants to be and I decided a long time ago to leave out the part where I'd probably kill myself if that's the kind of turn that I wanted my life to take. And no, not because I think it's a disgusting thing to do, or because I think she shouldn't be allowed to be who she feels she is, but because the people in this town make living so tough sometimes. I know, I've been through some things and some people have chosen to make it more difficult than it had to be because they could and because for some messed up reason they get some kind of kick out of that sort of thing. But anyway, she lives in the middle of these woods. Her family owned them centuries ago but ended up selling most of the forest to the government to ease up family feuds and difficulties over wills and all those ridiculous legal things that pull families apart. It's still named after them, their surname, and we used to go there for walks when we were little. More and more, there were people found dead there and I guess that my parents didn't see it fit to bring two little children to a place like that. I never really knew that there could really be a house so far into the middle of a forest like that, and that people lived at the end of dangerous driveways with lakes and dykes on either sides and craters of potholes in the middle but somehow we made it and for the millionth time she said to me "Nice to meet you" even though she's met me more times than any of us could guess at and I've felt kind of bad about it all day because I forgot to wish her a happy birthday and it's something I don't generally forget to do. I slept at my sweetheart's house because my head hurt so much and I refused to drive home and it was one of the worst night's sleep ever. He painted the bottom of a new Vick's inhaler green so we could differentiate between his and mine even though we're probably past the point of being too grossed out with sharing each others snots. God. Did I just publicly admit that? At about five in the morning he kissed me and got up and left and I fell fast asleep, hugging my big/little Horatio and I found him on the sofa later in the morning without a blanket, wearing those rainbow boxers I'd bought him with his hand down the front (it's a comfort thing that we also both share). I brought him back to bed after making myself a cup of tea and I coughed and coughed and he held me and we eventually fell back asleep 'til one in the afternoon when I woke up and realised that I have so much silly college work to do over the next few days and it feels like it's really fucking up my break, but it's my own fault. Anyhow, my head hurt too much to be productive because I have the stupid flu so I've been lying around in my bed all day eating chocolate and watching reruns. Things are definitely not all bad.