Heroin High

The Choice

HELLO MY LOVELIES! HERE IS CHAPPIE 11!! I HOPE IT’S MORE TO YOU’RE LIKING. IT’S DEFINITELY REALLY LONG!

COPYRIGHT: MINE ^^

Solitude is a concept that I never quite grasped as years went by, always hearing stories about people who spent their lives by themselves. No family, no friends, nothing. Just went to work and then returned to their homes, sitting down to do whatever lonely activity that they had planned out for the day. I never understood that. I loved my family, my parents were wonderful, I’ve never met better people than them. My mother is a heart surgeon, always worrying about work and people’s lives that are in her hands. When I was younger I would stare at her fingers and think…those fingers have saved lives, and then I would have a whole new perspective on my mother. She was a hero. Then she made me take out the garbage and it all went away, but that’s all relative.  My father, he was firefighter, I went through a stage where I wanted to be exactly like him. I wanted the huge suit and the hard hat, as well as those clunking big boots. My father used to humor me by letting me dress up in his suit while he timed me. It always took me at least seven minutes to get all dressed up, and now that I think about it what a waste of time that was for him. I don’t know what I would’ve done without my parents though. How could someone live without family? Or friends? That emptiness inside would be overwhelming, that’s what I always thought.

I see the perks of it now though.  I don’t want to leave the confines of my bedroom. It’s a protective shell, keeping me blocked from all the bad things in the world. Who wants to go out there when there’s so much death, war and destruction? I strongly believe that it would benefit everyone if they never went outside. Think of all the danger and pain that you put yourself through just leaving the house in the morning. Say you go to work pulling into a busy street with your car. What if your car spontaneously explodes? What if you get in a car crash, and it creates a   chain reaction on a bridge where a plane suddenly smashes, breaking the overpass in half. Then thousands of people die and it just might be all your fault. You want to know how you could’ve avoided it? Not leaving your house. You think I’m kidding but I’m not. SCHOOL! Think of sending your child to school, you don’t know it but they’re being taunted and ridiculed daily but they choose not to tell you because they don’t want you to worry about them. The teasing could escalate to a point where your kid kills themselves or someone else.  Just don’t send them to school.  I’m perfectly content with burrowing beneath my covers for the rest of eternity. Mission what mission? I don’t know what you’re on about Mr. Monroe. Wait…who is Mr. Monroe? I swear on my life I have no idea who that is. I’ve never left my room; I don’t know who anyone is anymore.

Alright I get it. I’m being ridiculous. Realistically who stays in their room for the remainder of their lives? Almost no one, and if they do they always have relatives who call psychologists to pull them out of their little secluded hole. No doubt in the next few days Puck will be running around like a chicken with its head cut off screaming that I’ve lost my mind.  Puck….he’s been checking up on me frequently the last couple of days. I don’t react to his presence but I appreciate the gesture. Usually we’d answer an intrusion of privacy with a sharp object to the face, but I just don’t feel up to it as of late.  They’re all confused and concerned I know that, but I don’t want to just throw myself back out into the world for the sake of calming them.  My bed is a warm embrace, and my blanket is a durable shield, I can obtain both love and protection in my own area. I don’t need people, I have no feelings. I AM A CYBORG!

But I really fucking need to pee.

With a hesitant resistance I lift myself from my bed and glance at my clock. Nine thirty at night and Puck still hasn’t returned from school? Where did he go? He’s probably out messing around with Demetrius; I swear he doesn’t take anything seriously. He’s like a child who thinks that we are at a funeral to have a party. Has that ever happened to you? You walk into a funeral with your kid and they’re all “Where’s the cake?” I did that to my parents when I was young. I’m positive that is the only moment in existence that I embarrassed my parents. I was little though so no hard feelings. Crossing into the end of the hallway I close the bathroom door behind me proceeding to relieve myself. Either way it doesn’t really matter when he comes home since he’s an adult. I made sure that our “parents” wouldn’t get out of hand again so he could even stumble into the house drunk off of his ass and they’d just send him up to his bed to have a good rest.  I’ll tell you right now though. Puck is a real bitch when he has a hangover. I’m not kidding. He is the moodiest when he’s suffering from a night of great celebration. You would think that that would be a superb reason to not drink but it’s like he lives to become the next Bruce Banner. He’ll turn green and everything I swear. Then ten minutes later he’ll vomit his weight in stomach fluids. Despite this though he always seems to get laid. Always. It’s like intoxicated women think regurgitating your insides is attractive. The stupidity of the human race never fails to amaze me. You think we would’ve learned by now but we gradually get more and more moronic. Does this not pose a problem to anyone else but me? Chuckling to myself I wash my hands before exiting the bathroom and heading downstairs for a glass of ice cold water. Is there anything better in this world than ice cold water? No. It’s a fact.  You can give me all your silly reasons and excuses but ice cold water is a gift from the gods. I ponder the uses of water as I reach up and grab a glass from the cupboard, unfortunately my grip isn’t stable enough and the glass comes toppling down toward by face. “Shit!” I exclaim loudly as it crashes on the counter in front of me shards of glass soaring in every direction. I wince as little pieces pierce my bare chest. So much for a nice cold glass of water. You see what I meant by leaving your room? Don’t do it. I jolt in surprise as a hand comes out from nowhere grabbing my shoulder and twisting me around.