The autumn I lost my innocence.

Rapping at the end of a Rock & Roll

Stuck in a basement. Willingly.

You might assume from the jumble of the floor that it belongs to a label of some female's bedroom, covered with scribbles and torn crumpled papers, empty photo albums, pictures cut into pieces for some kind of vengeance. But it was those fucking Polaroids dancing around the ceiling. Mocking her determination for an unspeakable torture of rotting in unstable, disarray of filth.

All silhouettes were gone. Of all her imaginary fairy friends and demons eaten by her hunger. She ate them, tore apart with her sharp canines their wings while singing the wicked anthem for the anonymous victims. You can picture it vividly, there were evidences buried under the pile of wrinkled floral dresses and old school, flannel, tiny skirts.

She was exhausted at the end. The chaos she invented was still floating above her, surrounded by clouds of exhaled fumes. Burned lungs, broken womb, bitter taste inside her mouth. How did he ever enjoyed kissing her?

Stuck in the basement, without a purpose. The basement was her room of survival and the essences of hiding without alerting her friends and family to come and seek her.

Deep in the woods. Remember those words? 

Of course there shouldn't be rock and roll playing inside the deep, scary woods. That would just be as much as a suicidal mission to welcome devils and dead corpses. Careless she was. She would shrug it all off and say at least this rock and roll got some good, shitless rapping interrupting the pace of repetitive choruses of these songs.

She couldn't rap along. It was all new. Even to her taste. She hated beats. She felt sorry for Ash for liking the beats and he felt sorry for her for being a lost cause. And that was satisfyingly fair for her. For both of them. Good friendships, strong bonds, needed such dynamics and mutual understanding for the lost causes that might reflect bad in deep conversations.

Her mother couldn't understand her sudden rebellious aroma, at the age of twenty-twenty. Wasn't all supposed to end by now?

Amy apologized silently to her mother. For presenting a shocking element of disappointment and put it out as the new standard of living.

It all happened after she tried for four months. Being the adult everyone grow into. She was this close to become independent. Powerful. A woman.  

And she kind of enjoyed it even while suffering the consequences. Four months of semi-working,  slacking off in the meeting room, reading comics, writing some content, vaping with her back to the CCTV, eating lunch alone before anyone get to see her chew on her raw salad and then writing some more content that would eventually get rejected by one of the many jackasses feeding on newbies like her in the business world. 

And once the clock hits six PM:

Amy was nowhere to be found. Already descending the stairs of 10 floors with her high heels issuing a clanking echo behind her, instead of waiting for the crowded elevator, so nobody from that damn company would run after her asking her to stay a bit more since one of the blogs she wrote doesn't match all the requirements offered by some dumb client.

She shall do it the next day. It all get postponed to the next day. But once the night comes, she would be running toward the mall next to the company's tower, buying scented candles and browsing books.

She once bought a Harry Potter wizard wand that a month later would be found in the bottom of her closet along with F.r.i.e.n.d.s theme monopoly board game.

The power of being able to buy shit and throw it away, thinking that one of the babies coming will be grateful for such stuff that required certain age to utilize them side by side with a creative imagination that isn't infected with any mental issue.