~Her words were my poison. I used them to consume myself.
Disturbingly honest. Painfully strained. Carefully penned down. Dangerously addictive.~
A journal that landed in the right hands and told a whole story with words, no lips could speak.
Two...
So. Loneliness. I forget how it feels every few months. The hard, sinking heat that feels awful every time. It's always the same. You want to talk about something. Something important. Or fun. Or both. And there's nobody around to share that with. So the excitement stays inside of you and rots into something unrecognizable. Until you're bitter and have nothing positive to offer. It's all just unpleasantness from this point on.
Sometimes I feel like telling people exactly what I think of them. Lose them once and for all instead of every time I feel alone. Because being alone is one thing and then hearing people say that you're not is just another. I'm sorry, I obviously don't know my loneliness it's just something I made up.
But I won't. Because I don't actually want to lose them. I never want to lose anyone. Not if I can avoid them. My affection for them is secondary. It's the losing that hurts. Irrespective of who it is.
Honestly though, I wish I could tell them to fuck off. No consequences. Being nice even when you want to yell is beyond frustrating. Whether it be Melody Walden or Drax Clarke, it means the same thing. I don't want to be that person but I guess I am. Because if I wasn't, I wouldn't feel this way at all, right? You're either okay with being alone or you're not.
I want to scream. But everyone thinks that's just another quirky thing I do. No, I want to yell. I want to lose my voice for 3 days. I want to be allowed to be mad. The best part is, nobody would even know I was mad. Drifting apart is easier than blowing up on someone anyway, right?
She sounded angry but it was nothing compared to the look on Wendy's face as she saw her boyfriend passed out on my bed.
"I told you to take care of him!" Wendy yelled at me.
"He's fine," I said, gently punching Finn's shoulder.
"Don't use a word if you don't know what it means."
"Come on Wend--"
"No! No, he's not used to this, I just--I don't know why I thought you were the responsible one!"
"I'm the one who's not drunk so--"
"I'd prefer it if you were passed out instead, you know?"
"Wow? Thanks Wendy."
She sighed, "I didn't mean that."
"No, I get it--"
"Draxy," she looked at me with softer eyes, "thanks for bringing him home safe, I'm not mad at you." She paused, "about this or because you got yourself a date."
"Don't worry about it--"
"No, I shouldn't have yelled at you, I'm just having a hard time and Finn gets sick when he's drunk and I didn't want to deal with that, I'm sorry." She was crying?
"Wend?" I nudged her gently.
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Overwhelmed, that's all."
"Why?"
She hugged me and sank into me, "Draxy, I don't want to talk about it."
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