𝐆𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐝𝐬| 𝐜. 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

#₁₇

✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ:* ───────────── *:･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ✧
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

───────
#¹⁷ I'VE BEEN SMOKING PURPLE HAZE OOOH, TO FORGET ABOUT YOU
7:46 pm

✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ:* ───────────── *:･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ✧

you glared back at China, who only stood in the doorway cowering in fear. your gaze saying one thing: you better hope i don't find it here.
0:10 ─|──────── 2:56
|◁ II ▷|

trigger warning: mentions of child abuse,
drug use, and parental trauma

✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ:* ───────────── *:･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ✧

       the soft padding of your fuzzy house slippers was the only noise that could be heard in the somber dark of your large house. a place that despite everything still didn't quite feel like home. you were so far away from everything, from your old house, your neighborhood, the familiar streets, sounds, and smells. you had all been so quick to trade it all in for a taste of the good life without realizing what you'd be leaving behind.

        sure your house was beautiful, a testament to your hard work. you and your friends were beyond blessed, each of you knowing that to be a fact. but as you sat against the stairs, gazing up at your raised ceilings and cold marble floors you couldn't help but still feel like that little black girl from the ghetto, lost in some rich folks wonderland, instead of your own home. there weren't any pictures of you all, or familiar scuffs and stains on the walls, the place hadn't been worn it yet, still retaining its new home smell. it felt detached, impersonal, unfamiliar.

you rubbed your bare thighs an attempt to warm up as you pushed yourself up from the stairs and entered your kitchen heading straight for the fridge. swinging open it's smooth titanium doors, you scanned its contents: a full fridge of all your favorites yet nothing you felt like eating. sighing you closed the refrigerator with a dull thud and glanced at the microwave, reading the time etched into its hard exterior, burning a bright neon glow:

5:45 am

well shit...

         spinning back around on your heel you headed back in the direction of the stairs taking them two by two. You often roamed your house like this, too restless to sleep but too sleepy to actually wake up and attempt to start the day deciding instead to let your feet take you wherever they saw fit. Careful to step lightly, not wanting to wake up the rest of the house. You'd already caused them enough grief... remembering vividly the night you walked nearly three miles from home, lost in your own daze of thoughts.