“It’s weird, being here. Sleeping on the floor. Smoking and drinking as much as I want. Not seeing anyone. It sort of feels like Christmas.” “Like Christmas?” “Yeah. Just, like, my world has stopped for a bit.” I stay silent. “You know what I mean.” “No I don’t, actually. Because it feels like the opposite of Christmas to me.” “What’s the opposite of Christmas?” “I don’t know. Easter? The worst birthday ever? My own fucking funeral except I’m alive at it?”
