Some Friday morning in November, 1999
This, right here, is the sweet spot.
Drifting in and out of consciousness, warm and toasty in my bed, dreaming now and ignoring my insistent bladder then, I'm happy. There's no stress and no anxiety right now. Just me and my dreams and the heartening presence of my pillow.
It won't be long now though. I can hear the carnival in the distance. The insistant call of life and its demands, and the promise I made to myself to actually study on Fridays. I managed to setup my schedule to avoid class on Friday, one of the perks of uni over highschool. I don't think I've gotten up earlier than noon so far this semester, and today will be no different.
So I toss over and will myself to ignore the voices, which seem nearer now. I picture Rebecca and imagine doing stuff with her. Standing around, looking at each other, watching a movie together, and generally being a happy couple. Is it odd that I find it difficult to imagine a sexual situation with a girl I genuinely like? Whenever I try to conjure a Rebecca-based blowjob, one of two things happen: a) I revert to the innocent happy couple stuff or b) switch to a random chick, whether it be the faceless or reality-inspired variety.
Smiling Rebecca is always smiling, and I smile too.
But the raucous crowd will not be ignored. My heart beats faster, and I feel the adreline rush into my limbs. I've got to get up now. I've got to trick my brain into thinking I've actually accomplished something today, otherwise I'll never get to sleep tonight. I wonder whether eating breakfast counts?