it was twilight. and her nerves had seemed to get the best of her once again. they wouldn’t hold up against the social standing of the nights progressions…..no…her stomach was in all kinds of knots. the ones they teach u to tie on ships and when u go camping. knots like when a comb hasn’t seen her hair for weeks. them kind of knots. what was missing was her soul. she left it wedged between the cushions of someones couch back in the 80’s when crashing on someones couch was ‘cool’. u had to be the bum friend on the couch at least once in ur life. she developed a weak stomach from bad eating habits. too many anarchy pancakes (thanks nixenator). had her fair share of boozing as well. this time last year 6pm would have seen her face down in someone else. a crude and bitter reality she came to terms with with every sip. every gulp that tried to trickle down her crippling face. she had done this so many times it seemed like second nature. damage control my ass. stability is for the unstable! she seeks nothing of the sort. and without rebellion she stands for nothing! so she sleeps on the couch and she drinks her booze and smokes too many god damn cigarettes. like its the fucking 80’s all over again.