The day I met Dipper, FKA "Duffy"

Yes, I had a headache, and yes, my comforter was sending theta waves directly to me, begging me to surrender back under it. But I knew this was the morning I had to change my life. After pulling on the semblance of a put-together young woman and calling an Uber, I kept having flashbacks of last night. Dancing with the glittered-out drag kings and queens in Oakland, while I drank martinis and sporadically would scream to no one in particular, “I love this night!”

The car finally pulled up to the shelter. I was the first to arrive. Severely hungover, can they tell? Can they tell I’m actually irresponsible, selfish? Can they tell that I cry a little too much, I don’t eat well, and am a bit emotionally unstable? That I’m unfit for myself, let alone for another living being? 

Hi, I’m here for Duffy?

Oh, you were the one who called? Let me bring him to you.

There you were, shaking under a blanket on a couch all alone, while a gang of 3 chihuahuas barked at you, I assume, trying to get you to join their pack.

He likes to stay alone most of the time; he’s kept to himself since he got here 4 days ago.

You looked at me and threw up immediately. I smiled, acknowledging the feeling since I, too, wanted to throw up a little.