I sunk into the sheets of my own bed for the first time in a month. Nestling into a roost- cotton ball soft, familiar- is non compare. I woke up without the foggiest idea of what or of whom I had dreamt about but didn't care. The deep sleep blotted out slight short term memory and I liked the feeling of rest better than the one of accuracy. Planting my feet on corn rows of unmowed carpet I spelled my name in cross grain- the floor belongs to L-A-U-R-E-N. I walked to the edge of my room, shucked off the Cross Country Regional t-shirt in the hamper, sauntered to the sink, studied my sagging eyes, and drew myself. Pursed lips- I usually don't have a lot to say. Erase. Smiling lips- I only show teeth for photographs and toothbrushes. Erase. Blunt lips- I am so boring.