[so let the fireworks burst]

I cringed at the loud noise. They popped my ears and they were deafening. I hated the loud noise and the bursting color that blinded my eyes. Each time one erupted, my mind went back. Back to the past. Back to the hurt and pain. Because of fireworks, my life was ruined. There was once a time where I loved fireworks. The brilliance and color.

My parents weren’t home that often, but on the Fourth of July, one year, they finally came home at the same time. It was a miracle and we watched the stars, fireworks burst and sat all cuddled up in a warm fuzzy blanket. That was the last that I saw of my parents ever again. The next year, they were coming down to see me again for the Fourth of July, but they never made it. Killed by firework explosives on the plane. The one thing that I loved and gave me joy for once in my life also killed my joy. I’d trade anything in the world to have my parents back. Even if they were never there in my life, I at least was still owned by someone. Someone always loved me. Now, no one can.

I went to a bar, where the music was louder than the fireworks and the lighting was dimmer than the bursts of color from the fireworks. It was my safe haven during these Fourth of July nights. Of course, I’d drink until I was drunk though. However this was the first night that I was going to a bar alone. When I would get really drunk, my friends would take care of me and bring me home. But tonight, I wanted to be alone.

When I first sit down at the bar, there’s always that pit of regret feeling in my stomach. But after the first drink, I start to loosen up a bit. Every night is different. Sometimes I do shots, or some nights I just drink beer, or maybe I’m feeling classy so I drink red wine. Any drink that I do take, I take it hard. A lot of it and I do it until I pass out. Tonight, I wanted to pass out. I wanted to die. My life was a living hell. My parents gone. My loved boyfriend? Cheated on me. My house? I had no more money to pay for rent. I don’t have access to my parents’ money until I’m 25 which is in their will. How unfair. I never understood why they didn’t give the money to me when I was 18. Because I sure needed it then when I was trying to go to college. I couldn’t even graduate and now I’m working a crap job as a waitress in Hooters because no one else would take me in. By now I think it’s been, four shots? I was starting to feel little happier. I felt the alcohol starting to pump through me. I slowly turned my head to the right and then the left. On my left a man, startled me. He was very close to my face.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” someone asked. He smiled lightly. I realized that I was the one who said it. My words were slightly slurred already. I usually got drunk off of 6 or 7 shots, but I didn’t eat anything.

“You’re a pretty heavy drinker,” he responded, much too loud for me. My head was starting to ache.

“You’re pretty nosy,” I snapped back. He laughed softly and took the drink from my hand. Walking outside with the drink, I was horrified. I was running out of money for drinks and there was no way that I was going outside. His eyes twinkled at me. I wanted to scratch them out of his face. He was moving farther and farther away and I couldn’t take my chances tonight. I stood up, getting a slight headache, but fought it off to get to my drink.

It was warm outside and the humid air wrapped around me.

“You really want this drink?” he asked me. I nodded. He grinned, his teeth shining as bright as the street light. “Come get it.”