The throbbing headache and nausea I can endure; I've had worse. Right now I could cry, such a raw hope consumed me as I thought about you, desperate. It was still dark for me then, when I needed you. Now it's day. It brings a true smirk to my face to know you are nothing more than a night of binge drinking: a foolish part of my youth, a consequence of boredom. I could not hold your liquor, I vomited all that bile you said to me in the hedges outside. Don't fret, this is not a bad memory, in fact you might never be a memory at all. I am well. I will drink better and far more dangerous poisons. I am today, you are only last night.