Hours after this fucking semester ended - the first time in years that I finished at the same time as everyone else - I crashed on my couch, home alone with a tallboy of PBR and a bowl of pork stew ramen with the crystalline outside descending into the evening. Earlier that day, I grabbed breakfast with some guys from my class, J-----, and R-----. Her, one of those guys, and I talked about alcohol way too metrosexually for my sleep deprived ass to not be kind of a dick. Later, R----- and I savagely gossiped about him while walking downtown to go Christmas shopping. Despite my two hours of sleep, I felt cogent and piercing in a way I normally don't. My voice sounded pleasantly more adult to me then, too. I pretended that I didn't know her very well, like she was still just someone from my class, and that she had no idea how I meant to her; as if I've never cried in front of her. I do this a lot, and I don't know why. Sometimes, it worries me, but it's fun regardless, acting coy to yourself.
She's so cool, a younger me still watching thinks to himself.
My unjustifiably celebratory tallboy goes down quickly, and I don't have much to do but listen to Remember Sports and sink into my favourite couch on earth(1). "Tiny Planets" comes on, and the part where it goes, "Say you'll stay with me," makes me start sobbing sort of unexpectedly, despite the fact I told myself this would be the saddest beer of the year. That was supposed to be because this year has been one of the roughest ones on record, but all I could think about was how pretty she is.
(1) The couch in my apartment is my favourite couch on earth.
