People say it's a small world which truthfully, it is. The amount of people that enter and exit your life, the friends that can have pretty surprising history with people you left in your past, all of what seems to be justified as coincidence.
Well coincidence is a summary of the life I happened to walk into. I think back to the nights where the moon couldn't even light up my bedroom, then Im reminded of the night when my phone did. The consistent buzzing that vibrating through my whole bed, it drove me insane.
"I just want to fucking sleep." I croaked out of my dry mouth, half of my face cemented to my pillow. I slightly opened my eyes to see the scorching light from my phone casting onto the roof of my room.
I snatched my phone with the slightest slit between my eyelids so I could turn my brightness lower to a bearable setting. Then wishing I never peeked at my phone to visit this horrible notification.
Now, in hindsight the sixty-eight messages wouldn't of been that bad if I wasn't actually half dead with a pulsating migraine, but I guess that didn't matter because I was going to have to get up anyway.
"wake up sleepy head"
"I'm coming get you"
"found some new people to be in the band, been rehearsing, we're performing tonight"
"hurrrrry answer before I have to wake you up myself"
I was doomed, basically. Well my kind of doomed, you're high and paranoid and you don't want to tell anyone else in the room kind of doomed. I love going out and having fun, but only when I orchestrate it. Seriously, not even in a controlling or narcissistic way, I just can't do it physically.
"where @." I responded. Crossing my fingers that the littlest amount of effort would show that I only have the tiniest amount of interest.
"you don't have to be dressed up very nice, thanks for letting me know you're up, on my way now :)"
Instead of hoping that I'd be able to stay clumped up in my bed, I found myself rushing around throwing clothes out of bags and drawers, suffocating in perfume, and making sure there was at least the tiniest bit of mascara on my eyelashes.
I stumbled into the dark hallway down into the kitchen. I clutched onto the cabinet and opened it, picking out a classical orange prescription medicine bottle. The label read rizatriptan with the name 'Kelly Romero.' I dumped the fat white pill into my hand and sprung it into my mouth.
No. That is not the drug of tonight. That's just so I can not feel like there's a boulder inside my head. I shuffled to the fridge and opened the door.
"Of course." Slipped out as a whisper. Nothing in there except for a half drunk white Gatorade and a couple blue berries. I cracked open the Gatorade and took what seemed to be two sips that drained it completely. I grabbed the blackberries and traveled back down the hall tossing handfuls into my mouth.
I shoved my keys, charger, some money, and a little bit of bud in my bag, then rummaged in my closet for some shoes.
My phone buzzed once more, "I'm here."
"coming" I replied.
I slid down the hall and waved to the cameras that don't work as I walked out the door. "Bye dad, going to Mickey d's real quick, brb."
I left a little chuckle that followed me to the car, I opened the door to a wall of smoke that hit me. I peek my head in, "well you made sure to prove to me I'd have a good night" I giggle.
"Of course I would" emerges from somewhere out of the smoke. Eventually we'd be passing up a sign that would state "Thank You for Visiting Marrero!" and then shortly become "Welcome To New Orleans."
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I Want to Die in New Orleans // $uicideboys
FanfictionYou find yourself wandering past the groups of people playing music all around the streets of New Orleans, only to be introduced into an uncommon punk band. You become friends very easily with the members but you have a lot in common with a spec...
