06 | Too Drunk To Fuck

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S i m o n e

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It took a week to feel alive again.

A week of looming around the house, trapping myself between my bathroom, bedroom, kitchen, and balcony. A week of never leaving, speaking to no one, or a maximum of 10 sentences daily.

I came to find out that Mother and Mira went to fucking Paris for a photoshoot without even thinking to alert me about their departure. I found out about this when Father asked how it was going in the family group chat, that I then proceeded to silence and shut off my phone for the rest of the day.

But I think their leaving was what I needed. As cruel as it sounds, I used Mira as my inspiration. I despised her, and some days I think about what my reaction would be if she died; if I'd care at all.

But at the end of the day, whenever we were in the same room, she wasn't my sister, she was my thinspo.

I couldn't stand it, and it was a feeling I blamed the both of us for. I found comfort in our times apart. Mother didn't help much either, her constant need to remind me how useless I was compared to Mira was like a craving for her. She'd probably cross the world to find me if it meant she could criticize me more.

But today, after 8 days of silence, I got up

ate breakfast

replied to Ryu and Ella-Roses' messages

showered

and left the house, ready to meet Delilah.

It'd been a while since I saw Delilah, longer than usual. Even if I had nothing to buy, I'd sometimes visit the store with 2 coffees in hand. I never had much to say to her, so I'd use the time to flaunt whatever possible and feign interest in random jewelry I'd stalked on their website prior.

Today was one of those days.

Dressed in a black cropped vest with a pale brown denim miniskirt (both from Zara) and black loafers I'd scavenged in some consignment store in Soho that paired nicely with my handbag and jewelry, I stepped out of my car, tossing my keys to the parking garage's valet and balancing the cup carrier with 2 iced coffees in my other hand; an americano and a latte.

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