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>cont
But I ran out of the house as fast as I could, and ended up a couple of miles down the road. And I frantically started looking through the backpack for anything that could help me remember and I found a phone and shouted “P-Phone, fuck!” and I started looking through messages and missed calls. And saw this one message of this guy that I was apparently closed with that texted me “Hey man, I’m really worried about you. Please give me a call whenever you can” so I did.
And it rang for a bit and he said “Hey man, I was literally about to call you? Where are you?” And I gave him a street name and he gave me an address. I was only a half mile from his house, so I walked. And so I went into the house and he said “Hey dude, it’s been awhile.” while he was tinkering with this thing or whatever. And I told him everything about not being able to remember. And he said “You had another bender didn’t you?”
And so he got up and started really explaining the writing I made, the symbolism, and critiquing this and that, and what really made him liked writing in particular with a pretty heavy-handed degree of sophistication. And he hopped on his computer and showed this absolutely serene music that was really experimental, Just the amount of different genres alone. and how good it all sounded, I actually couldn’t believe it. And he said I made it.
But at the end, he was going over this one aspect of my writing again and made a joke towards how shitty my handwriting was. And I replied “It’s not that bad-“ and I looked over and it was me. And I looked back at the writing and did a double-take and that’s when I woke up.