A/N: a conversation between myself and either another me or maybe a made up person or something. I'm not really sure. I feel blurry.
"You've decided to stay off drugs for a night, I'm proud of you! How do you feel?"
"Like that one Chase Atlantic song goes. I feel empty."
I watch the shadowed over figure cast a glance down and then take my hand, "you'll get through this. You have so so much good in your future. Don't give up on yourself, alright?"
Another voice chimes in, friendly and masculine, a little carefree, like a farmer man, "you'll get through this, kiddo."
"I'm not a kid," I feel the hairs on my body stand up like a threatened cat.
"Sorry, honey, he calls everyone kiddo," the other voice said to me, "he doesn't mean anything by it."
"...hell," I stare longingly into the darkness, craving the vices that shelter me from my mind and the world around me.
"It'll be okay," I felt the farmer man hug me, I let it happen but my senses still screamed in protest.
"Don't touch me without consent," I hissed. Fuck, I wanted to get high, drunk, and mellow. It's so so nice not to care, it's so...
"so nice not to care, doll~"
"Dante."
"Who's Dante? Are you okay, sir? Are you hearing things?" the shadow voice asked anxiously.
I felt myself move almost as if detached from my own decisions on how to operate the body. I crawled up to the farmer man.
"The fuck??"
"Sir, I'm in so much pain, I'm so cold. Just a bottle of jack please, just a little bit, just some."
"You know all that shit's illegal here, kiddo? Not even the big money men are allowed to have it."
"I..." I felt myself giving up, felt myself fall, fall, fall...
"fall, fall, fall, my poor pathetic little thing~"
Quietly I lay on the freezing, icy ground. My pain from the stinging ice felt like numb, background noise. I wanted to be one with the cold, soulless soil. I wanted to fall into it so badly. Like years prior when I wanted to fall into my cold, soulless laptop screen. Fall away. Give up. Give in.
"Hey! Hey! Get up! You dead or something?!"
"Honey please we're worried about you, you look so cold and small and helpless oh..."
"Let's take hym inside."
My conscience was empty and filled with weightless mud. But it wasnt a pleasant kind of empty and foggy. I just felt dead.
