I'm awake too early and the sun is already too hot. Two years ago today, I'd spent a night trying to sleep in my too big bed, for the first time, but I was sharing with two others, so I left and climbed into my brother's bed when he wasn't there. He was never there. I was found a while later in tears in that bed, my heart about to give way, and one of my best friend's told me that she loved me and she cared for me and to never leave her. But fuck, it's always on other people's terms, never on your own. All I really recall about that time is lying there, my head near the curtain, the streetlight outside was shining in through the material, and whatever way I was squinting through my tears, everything seemed to sparkle in the prettiest little way. Only I never mentioned it, I knew she wouldn't understand. When they left in the morning, I climbed back on top of my new, too big, too hard, too empty bed and tried to sleep again, but it never came. I never did get to sleep in that bed for a long time after, but for every night to follow, somebody slept here, trying to keep it warm. I was seventeen then, and my nose wasn't yet pierced.