BURN OUT - niko vilhelm

I. thoughts at 3 AM

I feel like when the sun goes down at night, a higher power presses a mute button on the world and turns up the volume on our thoughts. Suddenly we have time and patience to listen to that little voice in our heads.
When I was younger I frequently stayed up late so I could have a little alone time with my own thoughts. At 3 AM,in my cozy bed, blasting some music, looking at the ceiling, thinking. That was my safe place. The only place I felt comfortable in.
I spent so much time in my head back then that by now it doesn't give me enough comfort. It's like addiction. You get addicted to something then suddenly before you realise, you want more, something different, something that's better, stronger, more comfortable, more silent.
By the time I turned 22- which was last month- ,the cozy bed was replaced by the sticky dance floor of a club, looking at the ceiling has turned into staring at my messed up reflection in a dirty mirror, thinking alone has changed into trying not to think, with strangers, almost every night. The one thing that hasn't changed was the loud music at 3AM. Now my only comforts are narcotics and booze.
I'd love to say that I'm an addict 'cause that would mean that I'm something. But I'm not. I could easily leave this lifestyle behind if I wanted to. I guess what I just described is what fading away basically means, but if fading away is this fun then maybe it's not even a bad thing to happen after all.

I am currently at my favourite club, sharing a pot with a guy I met a few minutes ago. He asked me to act like I'm his girlfriend so a girl-who was all over the poor guy- would leave him alone. I helped him 'cause I've found the situation funny, plus I kinda needed his help as well because there were two bars at the club and one of them was crowded because apparently some celebrity was there and in the other one the bartender was my ex boyfriend and I didn't have to balls to go there and order drinks but I really wanted some shots. The reason why I was scared to face my ex is because I kinda ghosted him after a few weeks of hooking up. I never really liked that guy, he was kinda arrogant and boring. I didn't even know we were in a relationship 'cause we never discussed it but apparently he thought so because after I stopped seeing him and replying to him he started a rumor about me having weird fantasies. Which is not true. I mean I have fantasies,obviously,who doesn't? But they aren't weird, I think.

Anyways, I helped Manu, he brought me drinks and now we are smoking weed. He is so easy to talk to, he doesn't ask too many questions which is great because I'm way too drunk to give him a normal answer and the burning blunt between my fingers won't help me with that either. After a few hits my body started to feel like it was getting lighter. The music wasn't loud anymore it was just a faded background noise and suddenly everything was cozy like it used to be in my bed at night.
"Are you high?"- asked the tall blue eyed guy while having the biggest smile on his face that I've ever seen. I blinked a few times because it helped me collect my thoughts. At this point I had no idea, because when my eyes were closed I felt drunk but as I opened them I was high. It confused me, even though I mixed drinking with smoking several times, my brain still couldn't process this feeling. I got so lost in my thoughts that I forgot that he asked me something but I couldn't remember what. So I just nodded, hoping that it was yes/no question.
A few minutes had passed by which felt like hours, we've been laughing the whole time 'cause we kept forgetting what we were talking about and we tried to remember it but then we forgot what we were trying to remember. Believe me it was exhausting.
"I'm going to the bathroom."- I said as I stood up from the wet sidewalk. Somehow I managed to find the door that led me back to the club. I fought myself through the smelly crowd and I walked down some stairs to find the toilet. When I looked in the mirror I noticed how my makeup didn't smudge, it looked perfect. My eyes were a little red and puffy but not very noticeable. I was studying the tattoos on my neck, shoulders and arms in the mirror like I've never seen them before. Then I looked at my palms and I instantly realised I had to go back to Manu because I was taking way too long. My greatest idea ever was getting a tattoo that says 'FOCUS' on my palm. This word has helped me countless times when I was under the influence, it's a reminder of the real world.
I put my hand on the doorknob and with a strong move I opened the restroom door but I immediately felt like I've hit something with it. I nervously looked behind the door and saw a long brown haired man pressing his hands to his forehead, blood was dripping down on his face from where his hands were touching his head.
"What the fuck?!"- he yelled in a rough manly voice.