But this time it was different; she didn’t melt into him, didn’t merge with him. She was rigid, wooden. As if she was in pain, angry, and scared.�...�I doan know what I feel, but I-” but before he could explain himself, the room faded away and so did she, leaving him trapped once again unable to explain himself.Slowly, and mournfully, he woke up, not remembering the night before at all. He could never explain himself to girls; thats what had made the dream so painful. He stopped lying to himself,. Undoubtedly, this curiosity had something to do with the urge to get even with my mother. Although I despised the way Mum lived; she just didn't give a fuck what people said about her, her philosophy proved to be a bittersweet pill. Having always drawn inspiration from people who buck the system, her carefree attitude actually appealed to me, except for one small detail; I consistently found myself immersed in the collateral damage she invariably left in her wake. Talk about being fucked up.. More

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