Sep. 29th, 2012

cremains: (kafka's grave)
I was doing my undergraduate when one of my childhood friends, Bethany, sent out invitations to her Horse Party. This was a yearly event of such excitement that even the month prior to the Horse Party was filled with anticipation and planning. I lived in a giant, run-down house, where I slept on the floor and ate from one dish. My childhood best friend, Becky, was boarding with me (unclear if this was normal or in order to prepare for the party).

The night before the party, I sat on my blanket on the splintery floor and unwrapped a parcel from my parents, which they sent just for the occasion. It was a tiny, knitted, one-piece horse suit. At first its size dismayed me, but it easily stretched to accommodate me.

On the appointed day, Becky and I arrived at the house of Bethany's parents. We gasped in amazement to see that their living room had been transformed into a giant antechamber lined floor to ceiling with luminous aquariums. K-pop boomed from state-of-the-art speakers which they'd rented. Becky and the other partygoers progressed into the next room, where there were supposedly even more wonders, but I went up to one of the aquariums and put my hand against the glass where a little red fish swam. I sank down to the floor and put my head in my hands and was desperately upset.

I finally fell asleep by that same tank.

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this hill is far enough

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