"I think. . .that I'm drowning."
Today was more about living, and yesterday was more about drugs.
I remember the first day you took me by the hand and lead me into the city, exposing my pale flesh to the world like a Broadway show in the middle of Times Square. The homeless in the shadows watched you spin me in circles, making me dance, and the rich children in movie-star clothes stopped in their tracks and dropped their Frisbees, while the famous in the limousines called the world to a stop.
Everyone stopped and starred with awe in their crystal eyes as you twirled me around your finger, dipped me into the Fountains of Youth, and held me so close to the stars that it hurt. The sun beat down against my skin in vain, although it was merely March, as though we where in the middle of the desert in blooming July. I'd never felt such a thing before-never had I left the safety of the palace in the ghetto, windows boarded over and door bolted shut.
I ordered food from the only source of light