Wow, I still have this blog... creepy. Maybe I should check what I wrote on Xanga in high school - it might be disgusting

Well, I am bored and decided to be a conformist. Har har. Yes, I am well aware I can not spell. I just feel like posting the first short story I have ever written. Its totally fiction. Yup. The characters would not be based on real people, what are you talking about?
Positioning Young

The bare trees flickered by as I sped down the interstate. How could he have been so stupid? It was always something with him. He is always either ecstatic or devastated. Occasionally he is just numb. Is he incapable of possessing normal levels of emotion? Probably, with the way he chooses not to take his medication. Even if he does not like his “psycho shrink” there IS a reason he prescribed those meds. Just because the antidepressants do not show obvious affects like Ridilan, his ADHD meds, does not mean they do not work. Damn my lack of foresight. The empty road is hypnotizing. I down shift gears as I continue my ascent into the Sierras. The sun is rising behind me, reflecting in my rear view mirrors. I pull down the sunglasses from on top of my head to cover my eyes. It feels like I am running away from the new day as I speed away from the sun. Birds are starting to be annoyingly cheerful. It just seems wrong. Everything is wrong. Its dawn, the sign of beginnings, but all the trees are bare for the winter the sign of endings. The bare trees do have a sort of simplistic beauty to them though. But where is the snow? The evergreens? I feel like I am in the Twilight Zone.
Damn. I should really stop letting my mind wander as I’m driving. I turn the music up a little hoping it will drown out my thoughts and allow me to concentrate on driving. Oh great. Another multimillion-dollar superstar is singing about how he lost his girlfriend to his best friend. I turn the radio off. I really hate country music.
It really has been a while since I went back to California. I have not even visited the past year, just concentrating on studying. My family is just too much to deal with. But now I am going back, Mark called last night. He had overdosed with his medications. Again. As soon as he called he said, “I’m sorry Mandy. I should have called you before I overdosed like I promised.” Then he just hung up. He is just so frustrating! He promised to call before things got too bad, he promised to stop taking things too seriously. I should not have left. I repeatedly lack foresight. He is incapable of taking care of himself. He is so emotionally dependent; he just wants someone to take care of him, although he would never say it in quite that way. He is a senior in High School, two years behind me, even though he is only two months younger than me. He got held back in Kindergarten once. Then he ditched school a lot his junior year, resulting in him having to retake it. He probably would have dropped out if he did not think Lily was pregnant.
Man, how did my thoughts turn to analyzing his life? I think about him more than anybody else, even though I talk to him the least. It really is quite frustrating. I worry about him too much, but I think rightly so. For instance, Mark is one of the smartest people you will ever meet. He can talk circles around people and just knows so much about everything. The only thing he is not spectacular at is Math, thank God. If he was good at that too I might just have to kill him. Although with his 2.1 grade point average I might just kill him anyway. He really can be stupid, well maybe he just lacks common sense completely. It is a mix blessing that Lily got pregnant.
Maybe I should explain about Lily. She never was nor probably will ever be his girlfriend. They are just friends. He seems to have a lot of friends that are girls, probably because he is too emotional for a lot of guys. Kind of sucks, cause he ends up dating all his friends so when the inevitable horrible break up comes he loses all his friends. Anyway, his junior year kind of sucked for a lot of people. Donna, his girlfriend of two years, came back from a month long trip to Montana (who the hell knows why she went there of all places) and told him that she was not sure she loved him. She was 15 for God’s sake. How could she BE sure? Anyway, Mark, being the dumb ass he is, said he could not handle not knowing and ended up breaking up with her. And then he was miserable for months cause he missed her. He still maintains he loves her even though he probably has not spoken to her in a year. I swear he is worse than an angry PMSing insomniac. Where did that come from? Talk about scatterbrained. Anyway, he starts going out with Becca, which was weird cause he had a major crush on Diane who lived down his street. Can we all say really bad soap opera? But wait, it gets better. She breaks up with him when he tells her that he might have gotten Lily pregnant.
When he told me why Becca broke up with him, I almost choked on the gum I was chewing. I totally had no clue he EVEN knew a Lily. I talk to him only often enough to get about every other crisis. So when he casually mentions that Lily was pregnant, I almost had a heart attack. Turns out Mark had slept over at her house one night. What parents with a daughter let a guy sleep over? Evidently too many, cause he has had sleepovers with many girls, mostly platonic. I think. Although he still maintains that he has only slept with a girl once. He seldom ever lies to me, and I believe the fact that this was his only time. Call me naïve. That was two months ago though, and one never knows with him what has changed. Mark’s life, by the way he tells it, is just one disaster after another. I really should talk to him more often and make sure he is ok but I think I would go insane if I did. Talking to him once every month means I just get the highlights instead of a gruesome hit-by-hit detail of every relationship. I really do not understand him. Or maybe I do and just do not want to have to think about it. Whatever. Back to when Lily missed her second period, Mark gets the bright idea of telling most of his friends that he hangs out with (thank god I was out of state or I might have killed him once for having sex, twice for having sex without protection, and then a third time for telling everyone he knew under 17) that she might be pregnant. Unfortunately, most of his friends are girls. Yes its great that he is so honest with his friends, but nobody needs to know everything. A new addition to his group, Stephie, evidently got very upset. (She thought she was in love with him. God, how can a 14 year old be in love with a 17 year old that she just met?) So she went to a friends party, got drunk, then raped (by some guy visiting from college), and then missed her period.
I wish I were making this crap up. So Lily was going to keep her baby because she did not believe in abortion. I mean really she would have gone insane if she did not keep her baby. Which of course was sort of stressful for Mark considering he could barely take care of himself. Lily, when she found out that Stephie might be pregnant and that Stephie would never consider an abortion, said that if Stephie WAS pregnant she would get an abortion so Mark would not have to support two depressed females. I guess that is kind of sweet in a twisted sort of way, but I still think she would regret for the rest of her life. I might not know her, but abortion is a big deal. It probably would break her heart. She is not a slut or anything. Mark always dates people whom are either very religious or spiritual. Which is good, but makes these kinds of situations even more confusing. I know I am kind of rambling, but you need to know the phone call was no surprise and how I really should have been able to do something about it.
This road really is way to curvy. I should not have decided to go through the short cut through the mountains. Heh, who am I kidding? Are there ever short cuts through the Sierras? Don’t answer that, if there is I do NOT want to know and feel stupid. At least all the evergreens are green. (Yes I realize how stupid that statement sounded) It is kind of cool that they are alive all year long.
I convinced Mark to get a STD test because he would not consider getting one and honestly I was not completely convinced he was clean (yes I believe he only had sex with one girl, but there are other ways of being sexually active and his definitions tend to be different than other people’s). He told the doctor to keep it confidential and the doctor said he would email the results to him, which the doctor did. Unfortunately for Mark, it also arrived in the mail the next day and was opened when Mark found it. His parents never said anything, probably could not deal with him anyway. At least he was clean?
Meanwhile, Mark started dating someone else. Where the hell does he find all these girls who are willing to go out with him? Its not like he is hot or anything, but I might be biased considering I’ve known him since he was two. People used to think we were twins. What happened to the rest of the brown haired people? Anyway, she was willing to deal with the fact that he might have gotten someone else pregnant, but then he told her he was still in love with his ex-girlfriend Donna she freaked (who the hell tells their current girlfriend they are still in love with the last one, especially in high school? Forget that, why does he think he is in love?). Yet she did not break up with him until he would not watch the guys’ basketball game with her before the school play. Which is the randomness reason to break up. I still cannot remember her name. I actually have to write these names down in a flow chart to remember who they are. Yes I am anal-retentive. And random, I am well aware that that is very odd combination. Stephie got her period and then Lily had a miscarriage, much to Mark’s relief. Which is odd, cause most people are not relieved about miscarriages. Or maybe I just do not know anyone who sleeps around. I am pretty conservative. His reaction is annoying though. He had started going to school everyday when he thought he might actually have responsibility, and as soon as he no longer had responsibility he stopped going to school. Oh, I just missed my exit. I am kind of scatterbrained right now. Forget that, I am scatter brained all the time. My physiatrist keeps trying to fix it with medications. I do not think it is working. However, not sleeping and having a lot of caffeine probably does not help my ‘condition’.
Finally, the hospital! I pull into the parking lot and look for a parking space. God this parking lot is confusing, none of the pathways make sense and the signs are not clear. If someone were dying, would they bother to drive through a one-way maze from hell? Okay, maybe I am over reacting. I am just a little strung out. And wired. I have been driving for the past 12 hours, throughout the night. Way too much caffeine. I’m starting to twitch. They probably will have to admit me. People at my frequent rest stops looked at me weirdly. Even the drunks avoided me. Ahhh, must park straight. Who can blame me for crazily driving? Mark goes and overdoses with all of his medications- including his sleeping pills- and now is in a coma. Mama would probably freak if I told her I was ditching school to come and see him, especially since I have no intention of visiting her. I cannot handle talking to her right now, but I just could not forgive myself if I did not come. When he attempted suicide his freshman year, I did not visit him though I could have easily done so. After all I was a sophomore in High School (remember he took two years to complete junior year, now that I think about it he must have some stellar excuse for being allowed to be in high school at 19), were finals really that essential? Well maybe they were, but I still should have realized that he was serious about overdosing. I do not like history repeating itself. Friends are more important than school anyway. They are the ones who make life have value.
I hurry across the parking lot and go to the main lobby. I look at the clock and realize it is four in the afternoon. Zoning out during a long car ride might not be safe, but it definitely makes it go quicker. I should probably have eaten something, as I am feeling dizzy and a little overwhelmed. Oh well, I will just pick up another caffeine filled sugar loaded beverage and pull out my cell phone. My therapist tells me to just go for things, so I will just go for the legal drugs.
No cell connection. Figures. I did not want to talk to his mom, but I want to talk to the front desk even less. Especially since I have never done it before. Hospitals creep me out. They smell funny, and the concept of death really makes me nauseous. I wait in line at the front desk.
Wait, a line? This is not the emergency wing, although maybe I should have gone there first. I really do not know if he would still be the emergency room’s problem right now, or the psychiatric wing’s problem. Maybe I should not have come. I could walk out these doors and get in the car and not have to deal with talking to anybody. No. I did not sleep for the past 2 days and the drive was long, ditching is no longer an option. I continue to wait in line to ask which room or which wing he was in.
A line? I take a deep breath. Perhaps this is normal. After all I barely ever go to hospitals. I think the last time I went to the main building was when my 14-year old brother was born. Although I have driven people to the emergency room before, but it just does not feel the same. In the emergency room everything is an immediate problem. You feel the adrenalin rush; the panic waits so you can take care of the now. I do not worry about something until after I can do nothing about it or I have no clue what to do about it. People always say not to worry about what you can do nothing about, but if you could do something about it would you be worrying?
Oh, the nurse is ignoring me. It is my turn. I am pretty twitchy, she probably thinks I am insane and if she waits long enough she will not have to deal with me. Oh well, I could just be paranoid. Aren’t I taking a drug for that? Might as well face her now rather than later.
“Excuse me, I am looking for someone. He – was in an accident. I was out of town so I really do not know what part of the hospital he is in. Are you allowed to at least tell me which wing? His name is Mark Mathews,” I say really fast. I really do need sleep. Thank god that the bay area is mostly Asian, otherwise there would be a gazillion Mathews instead of the common names around here, such as Lee, Wang, and Liu.
She types something really quickly and then points in a direction giving me the correct floor and wing. So he is in the psychiatric ward. I thank her, and hurry off in the direction she pointed. At least he is no longer in critical condition if he is in the psychiatric ward.
As I hurry up stairs to avoid having to stand with people in the elevator, I realize that I had not believed he would be here. I knew he would, but perhaps it had been a prank call? I mean the caller did not leave their name, and I was too shocked to consider looking at the caller id. No, that is just silly wishful thinking. I knew it was he. No other guy knows my cell phone number, and even if they found out most guys do not have his sissy deep voice. How he manages to make his deep voice sissy, I do not know.
Another desk with more nurses, they probably could form an army of nurses. An army in white, how impractical is that? A couple of doctors are discussing something quietly off to the side. Doctors in groups make me nervous. So do packs of lawyers. Too much intelligence and education in one room is bad for one’s mental health.
I approach the desk quietly and wait. After a while a young burnet nurse asks, “May I help you?”
I tell her who I am looking for and start sprouting off a bunch of miscellaneous information. Lack of sleep, lack of food, an abundance of caffeine, stress, and Advil had all made me pretty disoriented. I think I may have lied to her though. I really need to see him, and even though it was techniquely during visiting hours, I do not know who they allow to visit patients in the psychiatric ward. I figure if I act psychotic enough they will think we are related. Which is true enough, I suppose.
She cut me off. “Are you Mandy Brook? He said you might come. His mother already Okayed it, but you should know we pumped him with a lot of sedatatives to calm him down and he is rather… off.”
I nod my head. Wait, he was expecting me??? Sneaky bastard. He knew that if he called me and hung up that I would come here even if I had to miss school. I almost feel like he was taking advantage of my protective instincts of all my friends who I am close enough to consider ‘pack’. A thought just occurred to me. What do they define as ‘a lot’ of sedatives?
I follow the nurse down the hall and walk into the room after she goes in and checks with him. She warns me not to upset him and that he might not be himself. No duh. I walk through the door way and pause. There are eight beds in the room, but only six are filled. All are men, and most look very out of it. I scan the room and see that there is one person who is not lying on his back. He instead is curled up in a tiny ball. Bingo. Wait, did not the nurse tell him I am here? He is avoiding me. Great. I hate having to start a conversation, especially with him. Anything I say comes out wrong. He can also turn everything I say right against me since we are about the same level as far as mental health goes. It makes me want to pretend I am mute. However, I have not attempted suicide. Too many people to worry about still on Earth to even consider that route. Plus I do not want to die a coward.
I walk to the chair on the other side of his bed and see that it is indeed Mark. I ask if I can sit down. He ignores me. This is going to be a long afternoon. I sit anyway, and just say, “I was worried. You promised to call me before you did something, not after.” I realize that was not the most intelligent thing to say, but it is too late to take it back. “Are you okay?” He nods his head. That is the customary response, when either of us asks that question to the other. So I make the customary reply that shows I actually want to know. “No, how are you really?”
He suddenly sits straight up shocking me out of my chair. I was never very coordinated, but falling out of a chair with plastic armrests still takes some talent. He does not notice my fall.
“Do I LOOK okay?” He says sullenly, a little too loudly.
“No, you don’t. But you also know I am not a mind reader. If you would like to talk, I would love to listen. But if you do not want to talk that’s OKAY too,” I replied quietly to him, trying to keep my cool.
“I do not want to talk about it,” he replies stubbornly as he adjusts the bed so he is sitting up. Well he looks like he wants to talk, but we always do have to make this difficult.
“May I just sit with you for a while then? I apologize in advance however, if I start to ramble,” I quietly ask, not fully realizing how weary I sound.
He nods, and then turns to look at me. He gives me a hard once over and I realize I am about to get lectured. Getting lectured by a guy who just tried to kill himself. Again. But is that not always the way with us?
“When was the last time you slept?” He asks with a kind of angry concern.
“I don’t remember.” Suddenly feeling hot and stifled I pull of my sweatshirt. I glance at Mark and realize his normally grayish blue eyes are now more of a pale blue. Why would that happen? It hurts my head to think.
“And why do you not remember? And when was the last time you ate!”
“Look whose talking! You are over six feet, you should not weigh under one forty. And maybe I have not slept because I’ve been worried sick and driving constantly!”
A nurse sticks her head in and asks if we are all right. After nodding our heads she tells us to keep it down otherwise I would have to leave.
“Look, I really am not up to arguing right now,” Mark says to me softly. He starts to stare at me. He probably is just looking at me, but I am not used to being the center of attention. In fact I avoid it. “Thank you for coming and visiting me. I’m surprised you even answered the phone when I called.” I’m scared of the telephone, a little funky isn’t it? He pauses then adds, “You look awful.”
I decide to ignore the ‘I look awful’ comment because I do not want to deal with it. But honestly, what does he expect from someone who drove throughout the night? “Dude, you’re like a brother. A strange psychopathic brother who I barely ever talk to, but a brother none the less.” Shit, he looks like he is going to cry. I never know with him if what I say is going to make him laugh or if he is going to take me too seriously. Then again, he’s in the hospital drugged up, what is MY problem? “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to call you psycho-“
“No, you meant it,” he interrupts me, “you just do not want to upset me.”
“No I did not mean it. You just- oh I don’t know. What happened anyway?” I know him well enough that I know it is better to just drop it. Having a conversation about his self-pity will get us nowhere. I take another look at him, and realize he looks awful too. But I can see why when we were younger people thought we were twins. Our hair naturally looks like a murky brown. Disgusting.
Mark sighs, “Do you remember Katie?” No I do not but I just stare at him and blink. “She decided I was too clingy after I told her I would like to see her once a week because it was too hard being in separate schools and not seeing each other.” How the heck does he meet these girls?
“Do you ever wonder why you are always in relationships and they always fail? And do not forget to breath this time,” I tease trying to lighten the mood. Which I know is a doomed effort, but the little jokes keep me sane in situations like this. Or at least as sane as I ever am.
“Don’t give me that clingy crap and how I’m too young and immature to fully understand what’s going on.”
“NO. You listen. How many times have you contemplated committing suicide after a girl broke up with you? I mean damn, when you were experimenting with Kyle and he moved away you suddenly started cutting yourself. I worry about you. You take things too seriously.” He will not look at me. We barely ever talk face to face; our interaction is mostly over IM and the telephone. It is very awkward for me to talk to him, but damn I am frustrated. I suddenly realize we are supposed to keep it quiet so I lower my voice. “Why do you put so much of yourself into these relationships? Why is your self esteem so low that you can not find value in yourself?”
“What is good about me? I worry my parents, make people mad at me, and constantly have to retake courses I fail. I’m nothing but a nuisance,” he says dejectedly, however he has said this too many times before for me to feel bad for him. Instead I just feel annoyed and frustrated.
“There is plenty good about you!”
“Like what?” I always feel weird in these situations. It makes me feel like he is a girl on her first prom date fishing for compliments to raise her self-esteem. The thought of Mark in a prom dress almost makes me laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Damn he knows me too well. I just give him an innocent look and continue.
“Mark, you have plenty to offer the world. You just need to actually do it. You care about others; I know you do. That’s why everything affects you so much. It will take a while though. I know I sound like I’m old and I know in some ways I am being hypocritical, but you need to be confident. You have to stop looking for other people to prove YOUR worth and to provide you support and to take care of you. And yes I also know I am not getting my point across, but you know what I mean anyway.” He starts to roll his eyes. “Grow up!” I hiss at him.
“Mandy, why do you care? The world would be better off without me. Once I am dead Mom and Dad and you will never have to worry about me again.” He always categorizes me with his parents. Well, not always but it sure seems like it.
“Mark, I love you. You are closer to me than my brothers ever will be. Do you think you would be one of the few people I stayed in touch with after I moved away if I did not think you were a good person? Because you are fundamentally good, and once you start to actually help people you will make the world a better place.” Where did I learn to BS?
“I don’t want to.”
“What do you want me to do? What do you want me to say? We have had this conversation so many times before and it is always the same. What the hell are you looking for?” I am suddenly tired. I fold my arms on his bed and rest my head on them to avoid looking at him. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know what I would do without you, you are one of the few people I can talk about anything with and you won’t judge me. You keep me afloat. But you keep up ending up here thinking nobody would miss you. You keep dating every girl you are friends with to guarantee when you break up you are all alone with no support network. I cannot be the only one who holds you up. I can barely hold myself up.” I realize I am crying and try to stop to salvage my pride, which of course only made it worse.
“Damn it Mandy don’t cry. I can’t stand it when you cry, much less when you do it in front of me.” He tries to give me a hug, but I am not in a positition conducive to getting one. “Look at me. Damn it look at me!” he hisses softly. I look up and see how upset I had made him. It also suddenly dawned on me that we are the room’s entertainment for today. A live soap opera! Joy. I giggle softly.
“Mark you broke your promise to me. You were supposed to call. You were supposed to wait until you could get a hold of me. You promised!” I decided I did not really care that people were watching. They probably think we are destined to be together or something. I will not even think about it. I know I am acting very strange, I am normally so shy I do not talk in a room where there are people I do not know in it, but when I am tired I always act my most outgoing. Figures, that way I can make a bigger fool of myself with my impaired judgment. I will never drink. I am insane enough, and scatterbrained enough as it is.
“I know I did Mandy.”
“Damn it, why?”
“I just was not thinking. I really did not mean to actually over dose with the sleeping meds this time. But I kept on crying and wanting to calm down and when it dawned on me that I had taken the entire bottle I called you and then drove myself to the hospital.”
“What? Thank you for calling, I really do appreciate that, but you drove yourself?? Are you insane?” He suddenly smiles.
“Just kidding. I’m not THAT stupid, my mom came in to check on me when I stopped crying to see if I was asleep and saw the empty bottle and drove me here.”
“Why didn’t you wake her up? Stupid question, forget I asked that. I thought they kept your pills away from you?”
“I’m not a child. Its my responsibility to take my meds,” he says, not realizing what he is implying. He wants to have the benefits of being an adult without the responsibilities. It is so frustrating.
“Then act like an adult! Or at least like a more mature child than you act. You either don’t take your meds or you overdose. That does not really prove your maturity or your independence.”
He turns and looks at me. He sighs as he sees how upset I am. “Lets just drop it. It won’t happen again.” I do not believe him, but I am willing to drop it. I am tired of this argument that has gone on for years. He would act stupid, some girl would dump him, he would give his pity speech and then he would try to get himself killed. Sometimes the pity speech came after the suicide attempt. I am so tired of it. At least this time he is not crying over how some girl no longer loved him. I suspect that he did not love whoever had just dumped him, and did not realize it until after he got his stomach pumped.
“So- wuz up?” This is my classic phrase to start the conversation over.
“Nothing much, just was sitting here staring at the ceiling wondering when the next time they will paint it is.”
I look up. The ceiling was a bright white, looking flawless. “It looks fine to me.”
“Exactly. But when do people ever leave well enough alone? Every time someone is upset, they figure they need drugs. Every time someone is nauseous from eating too much they have to see if they are dieing from a terminal illness. If you break a bone, great- you get to sue somebody. People just go and kill each other for no good reason. People starve for no good reason…” he is off on a list of all the things wrong with the world. It is sad, but I am tired and having trouble concentrating on what he is saying. He really does try to depress himself. At least the sedatives make him talk like a normal person. I would not be able to understand anything he said otherwise. He has an annoying large vocabulary. And he uses it to dwell forever on the negative and never on the positive, which is not the way to happiness. It is not even helpful. Yes, to fix a problem you have to know what it is, but you also have to feel it’s worth fixing.
“Mark, would you stop? I’m tired and my concentration is shot. I need to go find a hotel room and sleep.”
“You’re leaving? You just got here! Wait- you’re driving? That’s not entirely safe you know.” I shoot him a tired glare for being a hypocrite. He drives like a maniac when he’s tired. He’s a scary driver normally too. He looks at me and I can tell he is starting to feel disappointed I’m going. Which is pretty funny considering that I did absolutely nothing but argue with him- poorly at that. “Would you stay with me tonight? I barely ever see you. I can tell the nurses that you are my stepsister or something so they will let you stay. Please, it would mean a lot to me.” Man is he manipulative. He knows already I am not going home because I told him I was going to a hotel, he presented the solution to the end of visiting hours, and to top it off he played the ‘it would mean a lot to me’ card. How could I refuse?
“But…”
“You know I have already killed all your arguments and don’t you dare say you are upsetting me. That is for me to determine. You are listening to me at least. You think I’m a crazy idiot but you are actually listening to me instead of coming in here and lecturing.” I look at him. He is insane for wanting my presence; I do nothing but antagonize him. I love making fun of him, I really do. If I am with him for too long I know I will not be able to hold myself back, especially since he never accepts ‘never minds’. I have not spent the night in the same building with him since I was seven. But how could I leave him? He still does not understand his worth, I am still worried, and he means so much to me. People say that people of the opposite sex cannot ‘just be friends.’ Perhaps this is true. I love him more than anyone else, but I do not feel for him in the normal “mushy” way. We understand each other. He knows when I insult him it is my way of showing affection and I know that he will never agree with me on how dating is an unnecessary headache. I mean what I said earlier. He is family, even though he is not blood. He is pack, and therefore a priority. I need to watch out for him more carefully, letting a pup hurt itself is never acceptable. Yes he is only two months younger, but he places himself as a youngster. He himself has said he is not ready for responsibility. Neither am I, but I will do what I must. My thoughts are always so scattered when I am tired. They also do not make sense. Where did wolves and pack come into this? I am so random even in my own brain. I think too much. Wait, what had he asked me? Will I stay here? I do not know if I can deal with his stupidity, but he needs me and I know I am not awake enough to drive. How did we get here? We are the most unlikely pair of friends, but we do understand each other. I finally nod my head and immediately fall asleep in a position that will guarantee a neck cramp when I wake.