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— ❝ YOU'RE CRUMBLING, SADLY ❞
Was it humanly possible to suffer from withdrawals when you started to wean off from a person?
It was a recurring thought for Millie recently. No matter which drugs she dabbled in, no matter how much for however long, she had never found herself feeling those dreadful symptoms of withdrawal.
Sure, sometimes she found herself with the occasional itch. Jittery, on edge. A quick fix would scratch it right from her system and she was satisfied.
But withdrawals? Never.
She had never felt sick from the core of her stomach, enough to feel it throb every bone of her body. She had never felt so torn apart from the inside out that it began to show in her dry chapped lips, dark circles forming beneath her eyes from restless sleep. She had never felt such an itch that she couldn't seem to scratch.
Millie was no expert when it came to whatever withdrawals brought about. Did she even happen to know anyone that could have suffered through that? She wasn't too sure, but it wasn't entirely out of the question.
A sigh drifted past her lips as she tilted her head, staring up at the stars from her balcony. Her dizzying mind knew better than to lean against the railing, but with the ketamine coursing through her, she was feeling risky tonight.
Her arm sprawled atop the railing as she held onto the bottom half tightly with her other hand. Legs wobbly and bent down to the floor, chin resting just beside her fingertips. If she held herself a little closer to the edge, she might have fallen over.
Despite the calm atmosphere of the late night, the ketamine caused her skin to crawl with anticipation of something. As if anything exciting were bound to happen.
The music emitting from her phone that remained untouched on the chair a few feet away began to drift towards her. Slightly distorted in her mind as she tried to focus on the melody, she began to hum softly before the lyrics broke through clearly.
"My baby lives in shades of blue..." she sang along quietly, frowning.
She scoffed at that line, her mind dwelling onto the thought of the only person she had ever craved so terribly.
In no way, shape, or form was Finn living in shades of blue. Not in her eyes, anyway. Blue was far too miserable to describe any part of him.
Whereas, she was always drowning in an endless sea of blue. More often, surrounded by the periwinkle pills that resembled the sadness she had allowed herself to fall into. The hours spent beneath the deep blue of the night sky put her at ease with her own melancholy. If anybody were to be living in shades of blue, it would be her.
