Chapter One
The lights burned low inside of the stuffy bar, leaving a tinge of burnt orange around the corners of my vision. I scratch beneath the collar of my turtleneck, beginning to regret even putting it on in the first place. My phone sits face down on the scratched dark oak wood tables, almost pulsating as my vision blurs the longer that I look at it. Around me, the atmosphere is loud, bouncing from one wall to another, through each and every table. There is a group of men, (nearly all of them wearing a bomber jacket and over half have a well-trimmed beard), all cackling around a long table covered in half drunken pints and empty food baskets behind me.
Their conversation isn't interesting enough to pay attention to, but it is loud enough to hear over the couple sitting on my left. Ironically, though, the couple has my attention, even though I hear not a word of their conversation, but their closeness intimidates me. As the happy buzz seems to wear off, my vision becomes shaky, and my heart begins to hammer against the cage of my ribs. My eyes are constantly wandering towards the couple, and I wonder if they have begun to notice how much I've glanced at them within the last hour of being here. As my unwavering loneliness starts resting in my bones, the alcohol is seeming to suffocate me.
I blow my hair out of my face and sink further into my seat in order to feel as though I am invisible to them, it comforts me to think that in this moment I am unseen. Most likely not though, as my drunken stupor always confuses my surroundings, I'm a lot closer to them than I would like to be, I am a lot closer to everyone here than I'd like to be.
They're sitting on a couch, knees slightly touching and their bodies facing inwards towards each other. Nothing spectacular and, really, you wouldn't bat an eye at them under normal circumstances, they're just like any other couple searching for intimacy in a dingy, poorly lit pub. But for some reason I can not tear my gaze away from the way his hand rests softly on her leg. Slowly he grazes his thumb back and forth over the exposed skin of her thigh, and suddenly it feels as though something heavy is sitting in my throat, jealousy perhaps? Moving my eyes away in fear of getting caught staring, I decide to flip my phone over and check the time.
11:56 P.M.
My friends left to go to the bathroom over twenty minutes ago. Honestly, they're probably fucking. It really wouldn't surprise me, I've been aware of their weird sexual tension for about three months now, it becoming increasingly obvious through their awkward conversations. I just wish they would have at least had the decency to wait until we all went home, it would have been a lot less obvious if they did, and less uncomfortable for me of course.
As the music grows louder in my ears, I grip my glass letting the chill of the condensation try and calm my racing heart a bit. That thing in my throat feels like it's doubling in size and it's getting harder to breathe and my mind drifts off to the couple beside me, but I do not dare to look. While my thoughts continue to retrace the man's hand on that woman's thigh, my hand raises the cup to my mouth and I throw my head backwards so fast it feels as though it could fall off, and I let the bitter taste of my watered down lager cascade down my throat. Slamming my glass back onto the table I grab my phone and try to hold my hand steady enough to let my face unlock the device.
Then all at once, I don't feel like doing this anymore, the alcohol is making me feel too much all at the same time and I no longer have the energy to keep all of my walls intact.
From Louis
"Found someone to take back to mine, i'll text you later,"
Sent 12:07 A.M.
Slowly standing up from my seat, an ache settles across my body. A sort of heaviness that suffocates my bones and lays dense against my skin.
Sliding my phone into my pocket and grabbing my keys from the middle of the table where two other sets sit in between two glasses that previously held a cheap red wine. Looking around me, I notice a new set of people have fluttered in and replaced the obnoxious group of men polluting the table behind mine. Looking back towards the keys I decided to grab them and take them to the bartender, just in case.
From Louis
"Left your keys at the bar.."
Sent 12:11 A.M.
After blinking at the blinding light of my cell phone screen, I slowly maneuver my body through the crowd of people, and leave the keys at the bar with an awkward goodnight. I turn around and catch the couple again, the man's hand still settled comfortably on her thigh. I sharply turn around and push my way past people in order to just get out of there and into the cold where hopefully my brain can focus on something else, something other than my wretched loneliness.
Maybe it's the alcohol swimming in my blood or that horribly heavy feeling in my bones, but as I look into the sky and try and decipher just one star through the Manchester smog I wonder where I went wrong. Why at 22 I feel stuck, and upset, and sad. Why when I am surrounded by people I still feel so alone, and why everything I have ever dreamt of still seems to be tucked under my pillow waiting for me to fall into a restless sleep.
The city passes by me slowly, as I walk back towards my apartment. I barely notice the groups of people or the cars flying past me. This happens every time I drink too much, my brain gets way too loud and my heart breaks way too fast. Almost as if I am spiraling into a place so scary but so familiar. My thoughts wander against my will following the ebb and flow of the alcohol in my system. How did I graduate college, and still have the audacity to feel empty? My therapist says that I feel as though I do not deserve the things that I have because of some complex trauma from my childhood.
But how can that make sense? If I deserved the good things that came with life wouldn't I have them? Wouldn't I have my dream job, something fun to keep me busy on the weekends, and someone to share it all with? A life worth talking about maybe? So many questions I am forced to leave unanswered, and that disgusting curiosity leaves me restless as my building comes into view. A tall withering place that seems decades older than it is. But it's in immaculate condition considering its location on the corner of 4th St. and Kramer. 4th street has the best nightlife but the worst living reputation, and I have learned that the cheap rent is worthwhile if you keep to yourself and mind your own business.
The elevator to my building is broken, and every weekend I try to focus on one step at a time in order to navigate the four flights of stairs in my drunken haze. Tonight though the lights seem extra bright and the stairs feel extra steep. God it'd be so easy to just throw myself down them..would anybody miss me..? I grip the railing with my left hand as I steady my breathing. Fuck, the last thing I need is a drunken panic attack in the middle of the stairwell. Looking around me I notice the gray walls yellowing with age, the second step to the top of my floor is missing the left corner, and even though I notice it every day, tonight it seems fascinating.
People are so broken, I am so god damn broken, chipping away as the days drag on. So many people see me, talk to me, encounter me, but who really notices? I have beens stepped on regardless of my spliced edges, awaiting maintenance that is never going to come. Oh my god, has life come to this? To resonating with a broken step, in my shitty apartment building? I lean into the wall, with my eyes closed and breathe in deeply through my nose, and exhale through my mouth. Fuck. Heaving my body forward, I make it a point to skip the broken step and finally make my way towards my flat.
4 3 7 stares at me as I keep my eyes on my door, willing my hands to stop shaking enough for me to find the right key for the lock. It takes some time, but regardless of my blurred vision I get it open and I can finally collapse into myself. The minute the door shuts, I lock it, and double check to make sure, and I lean my forehead against the door, finally allowing myself to cry. Gut wrenching sobs escape my body, and my breath waivers with each intake of air trying to reach my lungs. Squeezing my eyes shut I scream into the palm of my hand and bite down on the flesh just beneath my thumb. My mind is racing, not a single thought is able to land as they fly around behind my eyes. My head hurts and my throat is so sore. My knees are pressed so tightly to my chest it hurts as I try to regulate my breathing.
Cheers to being young in the city, to going out with my friends, to ending every. Single. Saturday. Curled up in front of my door begging to be normal, and screaming for someone to find me, but my voice goes only inside of these walls.
Cheers to being alone.
//
Heyyy,
Comments? Questions? Concerns?
Let me know if I should continue ❤️
