I almost threw up that night. I was driving home on the interstate alone. It was a quarter past four in the morning when I finally turned off to navigate the empty streets of downtown. My breath was fogging up the windshield as I waited for the stoplight to turn. I felt sick. I felt empty. You know the way it's been ever since I was eleven: when I get nervous, I just shake uncontrollably. The only thought I had when turning off on O Street was getting home to drown myself in blankets. I couldn't picture your face as you left me. The pain in your eyes was too much for me to handle. But, when I got there, I couldn't calm down, so I just lay awake.