fog city

I woke up this morning to tears running down my face and black smudges on my pillow and my sleeves. I still had the taste of nicotine on my breath from the night before when we stood out on the fire escape and talked about things we hadn't talked about to anyone since we moved up to San Francisco. Our talk consisted of our futures, our pasts, our parents, drugs, depression, and cigarettes. This nicotine is making me nauseous, but i fear the mint from the toothpaste will also make me nauseous. Everything is making me nauseous.