Dark Withdrawals (boyxboy)

Nothing in the dark room could be heard other than my harsh breathing. My eyes continuously shifted around at the destruction that I've caused. My gaze momentarily landing on the shattered glass shimmering on the carpet from bottles thrown at the wall, to the fresh crimson blood staining the hotel's champagne colored carpet, and to my now broken phone that was the source of painting my vision with red. Between the cooling sensation of the wall pressed against my bare back and the brisk draft creeping through the hole I put through the window, I should be calming down, but the hot beads of sweat steady racing down my heaving chest wouldn't allow me to. I secretly wished that I was prescribed some ritalin, when my jaws and fists mirrored each other's clenching actions, and my mind began to race for the millionth time in the last hour. Nobody tried harder to love than I do, and nobody can tell me shit about my mistakes that I have made in the past. I have been wrong a lot in my life and I know that. Everywhere that I go, a reminder awaits my presence, testing me. I used to pass with straight A's, but lately I've been slipping. It's not easy, and it never will be. Everyday I wake up to ridicule and misery, but I keep shit moving like it doesn't phase me. It's not until my homies go home late at night, taking some anonymous chick we passed around with them, and I'm in my bed all alone that I scream until I faintly taste blood in the back of my throat. That became an everyday ritual, with me not knowing how much longer I could keep shit bottled up until I was going to explode, me expecting people to just change and realize that I've realize my own faults, and my search out of the darkness. It wasn't until I found that light through the last person I expected to help me, that I started gaining hope that things were looking up for a young nigga, but little did I know, Aubrey was going to turn that light out and leave me astray, yet again, in the dark.