At the end of January, I landed myself in a room in the ICU around 5 in the morning. I took a nap prior and did my homework until I got a violent urge to throw up. This continued from 2 AM to 5 AM and I realized I couldn't solve this pain on my own. At 5:45, I remember forcing myself to swallow my pride and call my college's Public Safety to take me to the nearest hospital. I laid in that hospital bed, my abdomen in agony, unable to cry. At first, I thought this would pass and then I could go to sleep for class, that I had food poisoning and it was just excruciatingly painful this time. Turns out I was suffering from severe dehydration, resulting in my body rejecting food, water, and medication. Everything that went down came back up within seconds. Every time I threw up, it feel like I was getting rid of my stomach acid. In reality, I was. I hadn't had food or water for an entire day because my body struggled to keep anything down.

The night shift nurses were so helpful and tried to make my experience as painless as possible but it was so painful I felt like I was dying. Severe dehydration is pure agony and I have a high pain tolerance. That abdominal pain was the worst thing I've ever encountered in my life. They hooked me up to an IV for about six hours and my body shivered from the fluids entering my vein. One thing that bothers me about this is that my doctor asked me if I was my natural weight. It took me aback because I have a high metabolism so it's hard for me to gain weight. I mean I'm a 20-year-old person who weighs about 90-100 pounds. Who wouldn't be concerned? In this case, I lost weight from repeatedly having my head in the trash can in my dorm room. I ended up missing my two morning classes and having to email my professors about the situation.

I learned a few things after my first ICU experience. One, I need to bring water or another hydrating drink with me when I'm on the move to class. Two, I need to call for help more often instead of suffering alone. And three, I need to start eating breakfast every day.

I found this site when I was 23, about five years ago. I wanted to make money from my writing, and one of the first things I found in my Google search was a Prose challenge. It's hard to believe it's been that long. The piece I wrote for that challenge, the first piece I'd ever posted on the site, might still be on my profile though it's buried pretty deep. I didn't win the challenge and between my bruised ego and hectic life, I did not log back in for some time.

Now, I visit this site regularly. Daily, if I can. Most certainly on the weekends. Though I definitely intend to pursue writing with some element of professionalism, I've come to truly appreciate the pure community of Prose. This is a unique environment. It's anonymous(ish) but brims with such personality and vulnerability that we are able to see into the personalities and interests of one another in a way that may I dare to say, most people in our personal lives probably don't. It is (mostly) free from the back and forth of our current climate and even when those topics do come up, they are handled eloquently. So is the nature of writers. No one had to tell us that the pen is mightier than the sword. We know it innately. The challenges that frequent this website are constant motivation; a no-pressure way to keep the juices flowing. They remind me of what it's like to write for the pure thrill of it, of why I fell in love with writing to begin with.

Many times, I think to call you friends. I've become familiar with the names that traverse through my notifications and it serves as a comfort. I enjoy seeing new posts from Prosers I admire, and I am always thrilled to see a new username come across my feed, especially when it leads me to discover beautiful pieces and fresh ideas. There are so many users on here that I would love to sit and chat with. I have friends, people I admire, and a small community in real life. It's different, though. No one gets a writer like another writer. That's what brings us all together, right? That, and the ability to fully express our creativity free from the scrutiny of red ink and rejection letters.

Sometimes I picture this site like a salon during the Enlightenment in France. An exchange of ideas, hashing out questions of the self and the world around. A small gathering would be nice, like in the ballroom of a Marriott or something, but sometimes I wonder if meeting fellow Prosers would ruin the sanctity of the site. Some relationships are better at a distance.

In my younger years, I'd make friends with strangers. Sometimes it was a chance encounter during travel-- an engineering student who doesn't want to be an engineer on the train to New York City, a recovering alcoholic on a connecting flight to Charlotte, a friendly kid on a Greyhound who saw my Player's Handbook and helped me build a character-- and other times, it came in small glimmers. A cashier at the gas station that remembered my name, a bus driver who would slow down if he saw me booking it to the stop because he knew I had to get to work, an old Native man sitting at the same bench each time I walked my dogs. My life is more quiet these days, but I still crave to build those relationships with people- a deep conversation with someone you've never met and may never seen again can be one of the most enlightening things you'll ever experience. I feel that every time I log into Prose.