The other day I blew my nose and what came out looked like a piece of my brain. When I texted a picture to my P.I.C. (partner in crime), he described it as both "horrific" and "epic."
Later I texted my brother: "Wanna see something gross?"
He had me describe it first.
"No thanks" he passed on my offer with an accompanying gif of a woman gagging and the caption: "I just threw up in my mouth a little bit."
I kept the picture on my phone, missing the friend I always sent this kind of thing to. We'd get in a full ab workout of laughs. Me sneezing out a clump of brain or waking up one morning with lips so swollen I looked post-injection—the stuff of soulfood! I hoped the day would come when someone walked into my life again that I could be silly-crazy-immature with. That they would stay. We'd drink gin tonics and dance all night at gay bars. Cook family style meals for two. And be exactly who we are with no apologies and always laughter.