What's worse than an alcoholic room mate?


A sober room mate undergoing withdrawal symptoms from alcohol.


True story.

Comments

New comments are not allowed.

Popular posts from this blog

He Came

"Where..were...you? Why...why did you leave?" he said. He was panting, breathing in and out. In and out. The wind blew, the leaves rustled, the water lapped at the side of the docks where we were standing. The noise of the traffic blared from the city. The crows, the sparrows and the pigeons screeched as they flapped back to their nests at the end of the day. The big, bright orange sun sunk in slow motion into the bay. I didn't see any of that, I didn't hear any of that. I didn't even feel any of that. All I could see was him. Standing in front of me. Breathing. In and out. In and out. "You left, you left me. With nothing. I... I had to come...thousands of miles. Why? Why...did..you... leave?" "You weren't mine to keep" "Okay...that. You don't get to decide that. You understand me?" I could barely nod. The giant, gaping hole that had occupied my chest for so long, was being healed, very quickly. So quickly, that it hurt. It f...
Read more

I wandered lonely as a sheep

I wandered lonely as a sheep Like the white one which is Tied outside one of the shops In the bazaar- It looks like it has no business Being there. I wandered lonely as a sheep, Bounding over the textbooks, And the half-written diary; And the poetry by Rafael Campo; And the late night coffee mug stain On the desk on which I study, But sometimes end up writing poetry. I wandered lonely as a sheep, Tip-toeing along the chain of thoughts Of love and happiness, And security long-forgotten; Of betrayal and grief And newer emotions I wish I had never discovered; Of friends and friendship; Of love and the man I love Who I know will never love me back. I wandered lonely as a sheep, I heave one last sigh, And jump, over the fence- Beyond, to freedom.
Read more
"I can hear the sound of violins, long before it begins." And when you're somewhere nearby, my heart starts to pound inside my chest, involuntarily, even if I can't yet see you. "Makes me feel as only you know how, sway me smooth, sway me now." Yes, so much so, that just for this once, I'd pick you over Richard Gere. (My due respects to Michael Buble, of course.)
Read more