I was drugged last summer. Friends were present. I don’t remember getting home, I only remember waking up on the floor of the bedroom in different clothes, panicked and hurt. Bruised, couldnt remember anything. Apparently I paid for my tab (one PBR tall boy and one shot of whiskey), tipped the bartender, had my card, and somehow made it into my friends vehicle. I know I wasnt assaulted, because my friends brought my home and never left my side, but beyond that? Nothing. Looking back, the way people laughed it off hurts worse than the idea someone would do that in the first place.
Claire’s parents might not have been able to hear her concert, but she made…
This story isn’t about a proposal; this story is a proposal.