Revisionist History-- the Cliff Notes

So i never finished the riveting piece of dung about me and the good ship Pcp, the beautiful girl who ended up occupying much of my time, the day we met, the love story, the hammer she chased me with when it ended, the marriage proposal and the acid we were supposed to take before going to the JP, the sweltering nights spent in my candlelit room cranking Jane's Addiction and painting pictures on pizza boxes, the hookah, the pre-nup that we worked out where she would support me for 5 years and vice versa, her long brown hair and almost black eyes, the fact we were both probably certifiable, the sound of the ocean faintly coming through the window, the fact the i was completely smitten and still managed to fuck things up, the youth and arrogance of young manhood, the first morning she woke up and practically told me to fuck off, the way she smiled at me in the fading sunlight and smiled at me in the darkness just before dawn, the way she could stop me cold with her eyes and the way she liked take my hand and draw imaginary pictures, yes all that and the things i've forgotten in the years since, i raise my glass to you dear A. wherever you may be, for the beauty of those days and nights, for the insanity of hopeless love and the rush of blood in the veins.