I am a pain in the ass to sleep with. A face-grabber, your-body-is-my-pillow, through my rigor-mortis throat I hurl incoherent mad-house references to beehives and juicy-juice gone stale.

My mother commented often about how she would wake up with me sleeping on her full-body, my baby face unconsciously ½ an inch away from hers.

I was this kid. I still am.