Cold.

I’m never cold. Right now, it’s incredibly hot out, with a real feel of 110°f or higher just about every day.

I’m intolerant of the heat, it makes me sick and pass out, and I hate it.

But I’m laying in bad after a long and lonely night. A night, admittedly, made significantly better by friends who I know seem to care.

I’m laying in bed, and I’m cold. I’m alone. There’s no one here. No one next to me.

An unfamiliar and torturous feeling.

A better explanation is due. And tomorrow, that will come.

But for tonight?

I’m having a hard time.

The alcohol flowed too freely. The emotions got caught up in the jail that is my mind.

Tonight, this girl who is so intolerant of the heat, who sweats herself to sleep nightly (do I need to remind you that we don’t do tmi here?) is cold.

My bed is cold. It’s empty.

I’m alone.

And I’m cold.

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