anxious and alone |dnf|

lighter

TW: drug use, personality change, violence, addiction, drug deal, other addicted personal, high and descriptions of being high, (possibly implied suicidal thoughts?)

Dreams POV:

I told him to meet me in an alley on 17th street, which is never controlled by cops. As I stood with my back against the cold brick wall, more and more people flooded in, pilling their clothes on the ground and nodding out on top of each other. What seemed to be a teenager came and stood next to me, he pulled out a lighter and lit the joint between his lips. "Sad isn't it?" He says to me.

"At least they feel good." I reply. He hands me his joint, I take a puff and cough it out. I've never really liked weed. "How old are you?" I ask. "15."

"Don't ever do anything worse than weed. It will destroy your life." I explain. "What are you here for then?" He asks. I shrug.

My dealer shows up a few minutes later, I walk over to him and get my cash ready. "How much?"

"$425." My eyes widen as I pull out the money. "Y'know you're starting to be my favourite client." I smile in response as he hands me a pipe and 5 bags of white powder. I pour a little bit of powder into the pipe, light it and inhale all the smoke I can, exhaling it after a few seconds. The kid watches me from across the alley, smirking slightly. He walks over to me and begins talking, "Maybe you should've taken your own advice."

<<<>>>

Any love that I'd felt for George seemed to become cloudier and drifted away like the smoke that left my mouth. It was dark out now, my clothes felt muggy and my mouth felt dry. But the sensation on the rest of my body felt like no other. The euphoria of each drag left a warm feeling in my chest. It felt as if shapes were dancing inside my skin and as if my blood was tingling.

"Clay?" I hear shouting in the distance. His voice alerted me, but my head sat there leaning against the brick, my mouth curled into a smile. After a few minutes I heard the voice come closer. I don't know why he wanted to look for me.

I flick my hood on and shove any paraphernalia into my pockets. I stand up but before I can leave someone begins to talk to me. "Please, can you spare anything for me? My body is in so much pain." She says. Her hair was matted and skin scabbed. "I don't use needles. Sorry." Before she could say anything else I walked away.

George was right there. When I stepped outside the alley he stared. He didn't say anything, I didn't look at him." He sniffles. He's clearly been crying. As I try to continue walking he grabs my wrist and pulls me towards him. He looks into my large pupils, his eyes glossy.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"Because otherwise I would be dead."

He sighs. "Can you come back home? Please?" I nod. On our way back George is silent. "I'm sober." I say.

"Okay." He replies. I think he believes me.

~

Im sorry if this one was deep/dark, I think my writing style has changed a little more recently

Please take care of yourselves.