Lost

cry

My lousy life goes one day at a time. And it's like a war.
   My house is the battlefield.
My friends are the soldiers.
The drugs are our ammo.
My parents are the enemy.
They say after a war things aren't the same. And I know I never really went out on a battle field or killed anyone.
    But I have battle with myself, drugs, alcohol, depression, family. And life.
    And I find it hard to cry anymore.
The tears used to come so easy to me.
Now all I can do is ball up my fists scream and stomp my foot.
    Yes like a three year old acts when he doesnt get a candy in the check out line of Walmart. But it's all I know how to do.
    I don't cry I get angry. So angry I do irrational things. For example I once threw my 700 dollar phone as hard as a I possibly could at the ground. The screen separated from the rest of it.
     I once got upset and decided to walk into the middle of a busy road.
   My friend had to pull me back, because well I wasn't gonna run back to the safety of the sidewalk as soon as a car came. And she knew it.
    The only times I get to cry anymore are when I'm alone in the shower, and everything hits you in one of your more vulnerable moments.
    Or when someone yells.
The moment I hear someone start to yell no matter how angry I am the tears just fall.
   I don't want them too but after so many years. Yelling just strikes the dead match that laid deep inside.
   And one last thing that I can't help but cry at Everytime. Is when I'm left.
   I guess I was so used to the notation that everything leaves, or that nothing isn't actually mine. That I'll cling to anything that shows the slightest affection for me.
   Then I'll push them away. Ill scream at them. I'll say all the horrible things I've done to them.
    I will chug a bottle right in their face and watch their hope in me diminish. Because I know the longer they stay around me the more meaningless their life will become.
   That's what I think anyways.
But anytime they walk out.
I get scared.
All it takes is them walking too far ahead of me and I get scared.
  But that's besides the point.
The only reason I can't stop thinking about crying.
  Is because it's the only thing I want to do right now.
But I can't.
  The week went by really slowly and each day meant less than the one before.
   My "boyfriend" finally got the hint that I didn't want to be with him and suggested we break up Wednesday. That was one of the highlights of my week. Thursday, I failed a chemistry test nothing new. Friday we had off and it was the usual "I'm going to church routine" Saturday was a blur and now it's Sunday night.
      I'm outside, and it's cold. It's 8 O'clock and because of daylight savings it's been pitch black since 5.
    My parents left around 10 this morning and haven't been back so I had decided to just stay outside with my baby cat (who's not really a baby) or in other words peanut.
    He's fat, and loves me probably more than any of my other 3 cats.
    We were all we had for a while, and he gets it. So Everytime im outside he usually runs and hangs out with me.
  Now why would I want to cry at a time like this? I don't really know anymore.
    Sometimes I just like to sit alone outside with my cat and cry because I never really know.
    I think of the fun times that truly are fun, and I think if the stupid times that make good memories. And I think of all the hardships and that's all I can do.
  Think.
And I hate thinking, that's why I messaged my dealer. I had 20$ from the lunch money I was supposed to use for this week. And instead I plan on using it for 4 bars of Xanax.
   They help me not think.
My cat starts rubbing his head onto my stomach and I pet him slowly moving the porch swing back and fourth breathing in the cold fresh air.
   All I can think is that I'm 15, alone unless you count my cat waiting for drugs, because I have nothing better to do. But this is the life that I choose.
   And speaking if those drugs. It doesn't take him that long to get here because everyone in my neighborhood is pretty much a druggie. He comes and he sits down on the porch swing.
    Peanut is quick to get up and start rubbing his head on him.
   "Fun night isn't it."
  "Yeah" I say looking up at the stars.
  While I'm looking up I feel him slip the small plastic bag in my hand. And I close my eyes simultaneously with my hand. And I feel it.
   The tear roll down my cheek.
The crying I longed for given to me with a handful of drugs.
   I give him the 20 pick up my cat, and walk back into my house.
   "Goodnight Tyson"
 

A/N - ----------------------------
thank you guys for reading this it kinda means a lot that maybe I can write something to slightly entertain people.
That however is besides the point. I want to dedicate this chapter to Stacy. A loving neighbor to Angelica, I didn't know her very well but she was like a grandmother to my friends. And that's enough for me. I saw her a few times and knew who she was. I wish we had known each other more. I'm glad your In a better place.