Unfaithful

I woke up with a little knot inside my head. An impression recognized by the subconscious rather than the sense of touch. Too much sleep.

I still feel the frenzied energy from last night, reduced and parallel to the lingering buzz of a hangover. I remember being complimented--- the kind that left me open-mouthed in disbelief and made me blush. Oh, you're the one who writes! J and I were talking about you the other day... I don't recall his words exactly, but I've managed to preserve much of the pride. I'm looking forward to reading more...

I was laughing for the greater part of the evening, flashes of conversation coming back to me. Brief, as discreet second glances. I wonder if the friend I had dinner with thought I was abnormally excitable. And if it was obvious I took sips of tea in an effort to quell the hysterics bubbling to the surface.

I've only recently started drinking tea. A coffee fiend, another friend likes to call me. Tea, I discovered, is lighter and tastes cleaner. There's much to be said about such purity. It's my new and alternative choice of oblivion.

This morning finds me awake, but not animated. The mirth from the previous evening a faint echo. Pleasant, but vengefully distant.

Glee is unfaithful.

I should not have closed my eyes.