While you're happy for your friends, you begin to wonder why you can't have at least a taste of that life. You get up out of bed, and look over your s...litary room. There's nothing really of "you" in it. Fuck, you don't even know what "you" is at this point. Everything, from this college, to your clothes, to your books, phone, have all been the smart and prudent decision someone else has made. Unfortunately, this applies to you as well, looking in the full body mirror. Whoever convinced you that. Even that’s hazy.”I followed the narrative by looking at her memory as she thought through the night before. It really was a mess of clouded memories brought about by what seemed to be an alarming amount of wine and shots. Yet they were not as sketchy as she explained them to us. Images of the party and various details were clearer than she admitted to herself or us even.Same for what happened when she got home. There was one image where she recalled pushing her dress off her hips while pushing. Then angrily, "Who are you?" This is my house," the woman said loudly pushing past Caryn.The noise had brought Mike. He rounded the hall corner and stopped. "Cyndi, what the hell are you doing here?" This is my house," she said."You walked out," he said and Caryn could hear the hurt in those words. "Now get out of here." You can't kick me out of my own home," Cyndi said angrily."I'll repeat it for you." Slowly, Mike said, "You walked out with your fucking boy toy."Caryn put her hand to her. ” Paulina said it in the way that it didn’t feel like the words were for me to hear.“Yeah, till she passed out. Anyways, when she’s done, just give me a call. I’ll walk over to your place and take her home.”“Don’t bother Brandon. I believe your mom is going to stay here for quite a while. I’ll send her back when she’s done.” I couldn’t help but to notice the threatening nature of her tone.“I really don’t want to trouble you, Paulina.” I insisted.“It’s of no trouble, Brandon. I love your.