The final bell rings, signaling the end of the fucking school day and I'm the first one out of that stuffy ass classroom. I already forgot what that class was for, but at least I know where it is. Thank god for that map on their website.
It's finally the end of the day and I'm- well I feel like shit. There's no really other way to say it. I come too close to crying at school, I hallucinate hearing footprints, I wasted half a blunt in the bathroom, today wasn't my day, but really when have I ever had a day where I felt content with my life?
Walking across the parking lot, a sigh of relief floods out of me when I still see my car in the same spot. Back home, I lived in a ghetto ass hood so I was used to my car being stolen and parked somewhere else. But my "friends" were usually the culprit so I wasn't worried, just usually pissed.
Hopping into my cheap black corolla, I start the engine and pull out of the space. Today was a damn long day. Crow seems to be the only person I know so far. But gosh, if he wasn't a jerk when I first met him. We're so alike it sort of irks me in a creepy way. Whatever, when I take my two hour long bath, everything will be fine and my mind can finally rest.
After parking in front my two bedroom apartment, I walk up the steps and twist my key into the lock and enter. Nothing unusual. Linda, a person who gave birth to me, on the couch, high as a kite again, eating an apple. We both love apples.
"Hey sweet pea." Linda slurs. I'll start calling her mom when she begins to acts like one. Her eyes are always narrow, red and irritated as if anything besides the smoke of her crack pipe will irritate her eyes more than the clean oxygen in the air. I don't even remember the last time I've seen her sober.
"Hm." I mumble, my way of greeting but with absolutely no emotion. I don't even look at her, I just walk up the stained stairs and head into my bedroom, the only place I know can be alone.
I slam my door, making sure the lock is working. I wish I can say my room is a space where I feel at home, but it isn't. Nowhere is. My room looks like any other, decorated with band posters, pictures with my past friends, childhood knick knacks, and stuffed animals from the state fair, and other normal stuff any teenager has acquired of you had a life. I keep telling myself, if I decorate this room and make it look like any other teenaged room, maybe I'd be like every other teenager. But my past will never let me move on. My mind will never tell me any indifferent, it'll never work any different than it has for the last 17 years. It'll tell me the same damn thing, it's always a trap, they'll always be a trap. I wish I wasn't like this.
For the last ten minutes, after just thinking to myself about all my flaws, I decide to pull out my journal/song book before I get too sucked into my own reality. Writing songs are what keep me sane. Since I don't dream, I don't have any other way of releasing my deep deep d e e p emotions.
I grew up memorizing all the cracks in the wall
Staring up at the ceiling watching particles fall
See I prayed every day for a change to be made
And I'd wait to be saved, oh no
Up at night, hiding under covers found my escape
Shut my eyes and let the bass buzz into my brain
See I knew I was destined for bigger
And better but never said a thing
I assumed there was only room
For my dreams in my dreams so I'd sleep
And repeat 'til the moon went home
And I didn't know where it'd take me
But made me so craz-
Ironic how I write about the thing I can't do but wish I could, dreaming.
As I'm thinking about more lyrics to jot down while biting my eraser, I hear a knock downstairs. Assuming it's the front door, I move out of my bed and make my way down the hallway and stairs to see who's at the door.
Linda, or mom which I don't typically use, drudges to the door and opens to reveal a face I'm not sure if I'm glad to see. To my surprise, I see Crow holding a few letters in his hand
"I believe these are yours. The mailman is a fucking dumbass." Crows hands my mom out mail then turns around, leaving as fast as he came.
What the hell was that? Why is he popping up everywhere?
I rush my the kitchen window where I can see the front lawn, and I see crow open the door of a house directly across the street. Oh no.
He's a neighbor? Just my fucking luck. I'm guessing us being chosen as partners in the program shit wasn't random. the school has our addresses, they probably picked partners that lived close together to get to meetings in town faster. Encouraging to carpool maybe? All this shit is driving me nuts, ha. I mentally high five myself for that joke.
Crow's POV
That slow burn wait while it gets dark,
Bruising the sun, I feel grown up with you in your car
I know it's dumb
We've both got a million bad habits to kick
Not sleeping is one
We're biting our nails, you're biting my lip
I'm biting my tongue
When people are talking, people are talking
When People are talking, people are talking
Raise a glass, 'cause I'm not done saying it
They all wanna get rough, get away with it
Let 'em talk 'cause we're dancing in this world alone
We're all alone
We're alone~
Suddenly the melody stops and she turns around, obviously checking for anyone eavesdropping. I grip the door handle harder, praying she doesn't see me through the cracks of the door.
I know this may be creepy, but something about her isn't right. She gives off a strange aura and I feel like something isn't going to go right if I'm anywhere near her, but I follow her anyway.
Why she stormed off earlier, I'm not sure. She's probably one of those people who don't want anything to do with human connection. I guess that's something we can both agree on.
A part of her song made me question if she knows me more than I thought. How did she know one of my bad habits is not sleeping? How did she know I'm an insomniac? It's probably just a coincidence and I'm overthinking this whole thing but the last thing I need is someone knowing me on a personal level.
My mind scolds me for even following her in the first place. This is pointless, I let go of the doorknob and walk away, not caring if she heard my feet stomp in the echoing hallway.
YOU ARE READING
Meet Me Halfway🖇
Humor"The thing is, we're exactly alike. dark clothes, dark persona, dark past. maybe that's why we hate eachother, because we remind eachother of ourselves too much and who we hate the most, is ourselves." ~ For a girl that can't dream, she sure...
