Where the fuck am I?... Where the fuck was I?... Fuck not another one of these nights. I'm so god damned sick of the cliche, "I don't know what I did last night" nights. I want to know, I want to remember. I don't want anymore unanswered questions floating through my head. Why am I naked in this incredibly comfortable bed? Who decorated this room, it's gorgeous. Oh god, I hope it wasn't a chick... or a gay guy. Not that again, that was hands down the most awkward night I have ever experienced. I smoothed the blanket out with my hands, the soft pattern pressing gently through to the bare set of legs beneath it. The legs I've disconnected from my head as being my own, as well as the arms and the majority of my brain. Responsibility is something I've let go of entirely; the blame goes to my body instead. I've lied to myself enough that I've actually accepted sense in the detachment I've created. Health isn't, never has been and presumably never will be at the top of my list of importance. That's how I've managed to get myself into all of these fucking ruts. As I scoped the room for my bra and panties, the dreaded thoughts were waiting to make their rounds. Who is this guy? Do I really have to deal with the awkward... "yeah call me" bull shit? Even worse, do I have to listen to a guy lie and say, "I'll call you..." I've always thought it too slutty to tell them not to bother, I don't want your phone call, thanks for the fuck. I hate when a guy thinks he's getting away with something after a one-night-stand. I had the same fucking intentions the second I laid eyes on them, why do men always get the bragging rights? A sweet, sensitive voice whispered from the door, "Hey... you're up, how'd you sleep?" Mmm, right... one of the awkward ones. I guess it's always kinda cute out of curtosy to pretend to care. Totally unecessary, but cute I suppose... "I was going to make you breakfast this morning but I didn't want to wake you. Especially since I don't even know if you like breakfast, or are a morning person...or how you were feeling. So you know, I wouldn't want to, like, wake you up for no reas-" He cut himself short; a deep red glowing in his cheeks before he laughed at himself for rambeling. He stopped and stared at me, I guess waiting for some kind of signal on how to handle the situation, it's almost like he's new at this shit. "I slept great last night, feel like all hell this morning though..." I slipped naked from the bed locking eyes with him expecting to make him uncomforable. He caught my stare and gazed deep into me with eyes full of... concern? understanding? Something deep and undeniable but I've been so distached from human emotion that I can't quite recognize it. Bra, panties... where the fuck are they? The hard wood floor sent a shiver through me as the jolt of the cold shocked the tip of my toes. "Let me get your clothes for you..." he said as he walked from the room. I was left standing wondering why the fuck he knew where my clothes were and I didn't. A few moments later he returned with my clothes neatly folded, possibly washed? What the fuck, this shit's creepy. The calm cool collected feeling I had slipped from me straight through my finger tips. I guess he noticed the change in mood, or my blank expression promptly changing to, "what the fuck?" The confusion was overwhelming when I noticed that the pillows next to me we're still fluffed and the left side of the bed was unslept in... "Uhm Ali, what do you think happened last night? Because I think you're wrong..."