They tell you that you are meaningful.
You have purpose.
One day if you live right you will be happy forever in your paradise surrounded by the people you love...
I pick up a cigarette from the pack and put it between my lips.
The flame sparks the end as I inhale the smoke.
I check my phone again and see no messeges.
My social media is silent.
I sigh and stare at the wall for a few hours, trying not to think about what you might be doing.
Though I try to be numb, I try to be lifeless and dull... I cant help to feel the spark when i see a messege from you.
I desperately wish that I was with you. That our lips could meet again.
Suddenly I am falling through the darkness again. Through the lies and my own feelings. I hate this dark place.
This is the place I go when I am faced with my own truth. When I must face who I really am.
Because... I feel like a monster... And should be treated as such.
Though I wish for happiness and release in this place that never comes.
I die alone... In cold blood.
I shake my head... Trying to knock the drugs out of my system so I can have a better look around.
This is what I always do when I first arive to my personal hell.
I see visions of my mother slaving away working two jobs.
I see all the close calls and the times we almost did not make it.
I see my friends leaving... Leaving me to die.
I see your independence and foolishly mistake it for disinterest... Though... She did not talk to me all day...
That means she did not think of me.
I see the girl i thought I once would love forever... Moving on... Growing... Bettering herself.
I see ex friends that i had written off as snakes happy and fufilled.
So why do they get to feel happy?
Why do they get the money. The girls? The life...
Why am i stained by this frown.
The thought of her moving on... Forgetting me... It breaks me down and rips me to shreds.
The memory of the knife being drawn, the yelling.
The gun facing me as I am instructed to put my hands down.
That night plays again in my head as I watch him stand up and insist to be handed the money and the narcotics.
I put my head in my hands and think of the night my father left... The night Bruce floated away from me. The tears and sadness that followed.
The fragil nature of life... It has no purpose.
You are meaningless.
It does not matter what any human could do... Because they cant stop what is coming...
The horrifying nights I went through mean nothing... And are no match to the future. For the heartbreak not far ahead...
Yeah...
I zone back in... The cigarette now covered in my own blood.
I take another hit, but the blood gives it a very strange taste... Along with the taste it barely hit because of how much blood had seeped through the thin paper.
I got off of my bathoom floor and casually looked for something to clean this blood with.
I am still losing blood as i desperately try to save myself, too afraid to face what would come next.
My vision goes blurry and I fall to the ground, as the color fades from the sight and my face I die on the bathroom floor. Covered in blood.
I shake my head and wake up out of my daydream.
There was no blood and I was still smoking the cigarette alone...
YOU ARE READING
letters assembled.
RandomLife is a journey, One filled with more questions than answers. So whats a meaningless creature like ourself have to gain from it? *This is A story smd.
