Adoring Levi

one

The sky is on fire. Reds and oranges spread out from the setting sun, giving the sky it's last bit of light before it sets completely, leaving nothing but darkness in its wake.

The only sounds that can be heard are the waves crashing against the shore, slowly eroding the beach, and the music blasting in my ears.

I adore music. It's the best thing this world has to offer, in my opinion.

Music is my safe place. It drags me into a new reality; one that is protected by almost impenetrable walls of notes. These walls keep my safe from my actual reality, helping me to ignore the constant problems I seem to bring upon myself. In this new reality, there is only me and millions of melodies. I would stay inside these walls forever if I had the chance.

Unfortunately, it isn't possible for that to happen.

I tap the screen of my phone, wanting to check the time. It's 19:44. I put my phone in my back pocket and stand up, wiping the back of my pants. Usually, I would stay out for around an hour longer, but school starts tomorrow so my mom wants me home by 8.

The feeling of my feet sinking into the sand in my shoes each time I took a step frustrates me as I walk to the end of the beach. Once I reach the wooden platform leading the road, I take off my shoes and shake all the sand out before putting them on again.

My walk home is filled with the sounds of cars zooming past, most clearly in a rush to get somewhere. San Francisco is a busy place; it's always lively, no matter what time it is. It reminds me of my home town of Bordeaux, but I'm much lonelier here.

My family and I moved here a month ago, but I haven't made any attempt at making new friends. I don't see the point; I'll only be here for a year and then go back to France for university. Although I hate that we had to move to a different fucking continent, I will admit that it was a change we needed after everything we'd been through for the last few months.

The thing I miss the most about Bordeaux is the beaches. We lived only a 30 minute walk away from the beach, so I would go every night. My 'friends' would sometimes accompany me too. At this time of the year, we'd usually be dressed in bikinis, swimming in the dark blue ocean while high from the amount of cigarettes we smoked, or from the drugs we took, before taking a dip. It was dangerous, I know, but also incredibly euphoric.

I've been itching to experience that again, to feel the way I did back then. My worries were almost non existent in those moments. The only thing I could think about is not drowning in the deep sea while being so high I felt sick, yet still craving more of it. However, the more I think about it. the less I glamorise those moments as those people weren't even my real friends. They played a part in destroying my image to my mother, making me the bad guy when they were all just as bad; if not worse.

Those rare moments where we actually bonded, where they would give me advice on my relationships or how to deal with my many problems, they were never real. I was an idiot to think I could ever trust them.