Unholy Habits (currently being edited)

51

"Gabe I don't know anything, except for right now, I love you." She said it so softly and the words pierced through me like a knife through butter. I felt like butter, soft and melted and ready to be spread so thin that I disappeared. She made me feel that way. My heart was pounding and as I looked down into her eyes I couldn't help but feel my own ready to rain. It isn't real, Gabe. She's in the clouds. It isn't real.
"Guys! What do you want?" Luke yelled, snapping at us. This is why I fucking hated this guy. He ruined every important moment. Lenore smiled real big and skipped over to the counter. She went on ordering for the both of us, not even asking me what I wanted. But I was grateful. At this point, I was hardly able to fucking walk. She led the group to a table and together they worked to put together a couple more to fit us all. I was feeling overwhelmed.
It isn't real. It isn't real. She wouldn't ever say that in reality. She's high, high as the sun. She doesn't understand. She's blinded, so fucking blind. Not me, she wouldn't waste those kinds of words on me. I'm a fucking asshole, I made her feel worthless. She wouldn't mean that.
I hadn't moved from my spot, still facing the old man behind the counter who had turned to put in our orders. I was glued to this spot on this ugly cream tile and brown grout. I felt sort of nauseous and dizzy and kind of like I was about to cry. In fact I was about to cry. I felt weak and depressed and terribly happy all at the same time.
"Hey!" Lenore said all enthusiastically and loudly as though she'd completely forgotten my correcting of her loudness only moments earlier. She was skipping on over to me, it was cute and strange and childlike. The motif of innocence was washing over me all over again. "What are you doing over here? Come sit with me!" I looked down at her, catching her big blue eyes before my own.
"You don't mean it." I whispered.
"What?" She asked in confusion.
"That you love me. Say it, you don't mean it, and if you do-say it again." I was talking like a mad man and my voice was as weak and fragile as a single strand of hair waving in the wind all by its lonesome. She stepped a little closer and with eyebrows pulled down in seriousness, she raised herself on her tiptoes and she steadied herself with her hands on my shoulders.
"Right now, I love you." She let out in a low, yet, happy voice. It was so alive and dreary and exciting and terribly sad. She didn't mean it. She didn't. I shook my head.
"You're high." I whispered, the pain in my voice so evident, as I closed my eyes willing this whole mess away. "You're high and it's breaking my heart. You don't love me, you wouldn't, even if it was for right now. Even if it was for a second-the you consumed in reality wouldn't think twice about those thoughts about me. You nearly hate me." I shook my head. "It hurts because the way you say it sounds so good and it makes me feel special. But your high. You're not really here. It isn't real. You don't mean it." My eyes were still shut as I rambled on about how much she didn't mean it, and about how much it broke my heart. It just felt like we were alone in the world, and I didn't have a problem knowing people were there because it didn't feel real. It all felt like a floating, fading image in a creek. Disappearing for the world to swallow in its nature. She made me feel infinite.
"Listen to me." She whispered in my ear.
"I know the magic is called weed. I know I'm no longer a good girl because I smoke it. I rejected talking about what sexual fantasies I have because your sometimes apart of them. And I know that in this moment, you're making me happier than anyone and anything could. I like having you by my side. I don't know how I'll feel tomorrow. I don't know when you'll hurt me, it could even be in ten minutes. But in this moment, here, right now, I love you."
She said it so soft once again, but there was this everlasting power resonating with the words as they vibrated in my ears and echoed in my brain and traveled through the my veins. The infinities of the vibrations that those words sent down my body would last forever. I would rehearse those in my head, every second, every day. Whether she was in my future or not. I would understand, always remember, and never forget that she was the first ever person to accept me for who I was. Flaws and all, and love me, even for one moment.
"Now," she whispered. "Come on, I think the food is done. Aren't you starving?" I smiled and nodded, still not having opened my eyes once. But once I did, any insecurities, any fears, any pains, anything that real life proposed disappeared because I was looking into her eyes. It was her and only her.
And it was in that moment that I stared into the eyes of my future. It was in that moment that January 3rd didn't exist, that death didn't exist. There was an everlasting life that resonated within her crystal clear blue eyes.
It was like the cleansing of rain, a baptism in the holy water in a church, attempting to end it all by jumping into the waters of a raging sea-but only to be washed ashore, realization that life means so much more spreading across you and your burning lungs. Her eyes were a symbol of renewal, of rebirth.
In those eyes, I saw a future for myself, I saw life, I saw hope. I saw the beauty of possibilities and infinities that only this part of life proposed; the un-realities in which we never lived by because death and pain always washed over us like molten lava and we never had the time to stop our flesh from melting and disintegrating. In her eyes laid an infinity of unreality and the infinities of what we could create our realities to be. She was like an infinity dipped in the stars and dripping with passionate hope and possibilities. I never thought of possibilities, never felt their warmth as they hugged me. She was my infinity.