I can’t see. Maybe I’m sleeping. But I feel like I’m awake. I remember my fourth grade teacher talked about something like this. Lucid dreaming, think she said it’s called. But I dunno. It’s not dark. Not bright either. Just can’t see. That’s weird. Dreams have stuff in them. Usually mine do anyhow. Maybe I’m dead? Hurts like it. Head’s just pounding.

  How’d I get here? Last thing I… it was night I think. At a bar. I didn’t drink. Been trying to quit since big sis asked me. Charlie made a joke and took a drink. Think it was a Monster can. Had those big bright neon green letters on black. Looked like street graffiti taken right off a wall. And they just put it on an aluminum can, said, ship it.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Then I got a headache, all loud and sharp, and went home. Just walked inside and sat down. The usual, big sis said I could crash. Asked her for something to drink. She offered water and I said fine, asked how the birds had been. Then it was her turn, said fine same as me. I smiled and she left for the kitchen. For a moment I sat there and my head pounded and pounded. It’s still pounding. Hurts like hell.

  Feels like only a minute ago. But I didn’t close my eyes. Didn’t go to bed. Was just waiting on my water. Maybe I still am.

  But if it comes I don’t see it.

  Jimmy by someone Dallesandro. I don't quite recall what his first name is, though, sadge -- ADHD strikes again, ha!

  giggling), but it should be pretty soon. Until that time, thanks for reading, and always remember to dare to the stars.