How?

Lila - 2

Well, it turns out my "knight-in-shining-armor" lives next door. Since when however, beats me. I don't deny that he's hot and probably single, but I know I don't stand a chance. And besides, what kind of guy would want to involve himself in my fucked up life? 

His window is closed but his curtains are open, so I can see him drown himself in vodka and watch recordings of old foot ball games on his television. What's funny to me is that he's not even interested. He just stares blankly at the floor and takes a swig every couple of minutes. You never know with people, there's either something beautiful, something horrific, or something beautifully horrific to their story. 

Showering always clears my mind, so I decide to go for it. I honestly don't know how much longer I can hold up this blockade in my brain to make myself believe I'm okay. I'm five-foot tall and wear chunky, nerdy glasses and dress in black to keep people away from me. It doesn't always work though, sometimes I get the wrong kind of attention. Well, not entirely wrong I guess. 

My thoughts once again get the best of me and I don't realize that I'm already standing in the shower and the water, almost nothing but steam is burning my skin. I adjust the water, relaxing my muscles and letting every bit of tension flow down the drain. Every bit of pasty make up and eyeliner drips down my body and flows with the water across the white bath tub. I stare in disbelief at how much make up I've started using. The soft cream bar soothes me as I scrub relentlessly, only after a few minutes starting to feel clean. The scent of roses fill the shower as I wash my hair and follow up with the matching body wash, which I only use as an excuse to stay under the running water for longer. 

After I've finished, I turn the water off and step onto the soft, fluffy carpet, wrapping a large towel around my body.

Over sized t-shirts and a fitting pair of underwear are my usual home attire. I plop down onto my bed where I stretch and look at the time. Its 1 o'clock in the morning, and I know it will be hell to try and fall asleep, so I pull out my black leather journal and decide to write in it.

Um hi? I always start these things off weird, which in itself is weird 'cause I'm the only one ever reading this. Anyway, here goes:

Somehow I always get involved with people that I shouldn't. I always go to places that I shouldn't. Tonight I went to the bar, only to be humiliated. Thankfully some bitter guy was there to save my ass. He's a dick, but it interests me, even though there's a voice in my head shouting "Run, Lila, run." It gets worse - he's my neighbor. I don't even know since when.  Its a little freaky to be honest. But I have a feeling I'm about to want to get close to someone who resents me and everyone else on this planet, especially whoever fucked him up this bad.

I also did something weird tonight - I was myself with him. I didn't put up an act, I didn't fend for myself, I just babbled. I was defenseless. How could I let my guard down? How I could let myself be weak?

I close my book as I start to tear, horrid memories suddenly flooding my mind. I'm guessing tonight is just 'one of those nights'.

Sobbing into my hands for a bit, I try to relax before I start to hyperventilate. To my surprise, it works, so I wipe my tears onto my shirt. Mental breakdowns are exhausting and getting up to go to the kitchen is even more tiring. Realizing I've hardly eaten any food today, I decide I want pancakes even though its the middle of the night.

As I finish eating, I clean up after myself and return to bed where my room has become hot and stuffy. I go to the living room once again and turn on the air conditioner so it'll get cooler. Still not comfortable, showering again is my option to cool off since I'm impatient and can't wait for the air to work properly. Sliding on another shirt, my bed welcomes me as I jump it, engulfed by cool air, blankets and pillows.

No matter how shit, confusing, and randomly sad things get, at least I'll always have my bed.