I had woken up on Saturday morning, my stomach growling like an angry tiger begging for food, my eyes puffy and red, black streaks running down my cheeks, my throat hoarse and my voice gone from the events that took place the night before. I felt my hair and pictured my mothers’ fingers running through it while stroking my back in order to get me to fall asleep. Throwing my legs off the bed, my purple fuzzy socks touching the cold wooden floor, I picked myself up and walked over to my dresser mirror where I was taken aback to see my thick curly hair sticking up in all directions and the dried up drool crusted on the side of my face along with my red lipstick from the night before smeared all around my lips as if I were a clown. I thought
