Tug of War.

lSummers dawn

The weekend technically didn't count as the first day of summer vacation. But its that first Monday where you don't have to walk up at 5.30 to get to the bus stop by 6. That Monday was purely for releasing all your hatred for school, lying in until 10, walking around in Pj's for the whole day. That Monday was the first day where you can actually relax.

That sounds ideal for every teenager.

Just not me.

I had a late night last night. After Kent left I felt like it was really over. I felt that my heart no longer existed. Let's just say there was 2 tubs of ice cream involved, and the notebook playing on repeat.

Due to my... breakdown, I was numb. I didn't think that morning. I didn't think when I got out of bed. I didn't think when I had a shower. I didn't think when I picked out my frumpy outfit. I didn't think when I arrived at the bus stop.

My head was deep in my favorite GAP hoodie, my ear phones were loud, and slumped onto the thin strip of wood they call a seat. I can remember feeling nothing. Wondering why? I just stared at one yellow line on the road. I stared until I could tell you exactly how many little cracks there were in the yellow paint against the grey crumbling tarmac. Cars sped by and one or two times my eyes were distracted by  an occasional motorcycle.

My music was so loud I couldn't hear my thoughts, I couldn't think, but then again that morning I couldn't do it anyway.

I must have sat for an hour and a half, before I started to wonder why the bus was so late. I thought about my English class I would be late for, I thought about how Kent sat next to me in English, and how he would always pass me notes with Romeo and Juliet quotes written on, but he wrote them in Latin. Then I thought about how Latin was our favorite subject despite the fact it was dead. We always believed that we, him and I could always bring it back. Then I thought that maybe that's is all we were. Dead. Slowly being forgotten. With that thought a stray tear slipped out of my right eye and slid down my face like the way Kent's fingers would.

My thought got so deep I couldn't hear my music anymore, and suddenly I became more aware of my surroundings and situation. It was then that I saw him, he lay there slumped in a heap of drunk messiness. He looked horrible. His face was dirty and he smelled of smoke, the smell matched his grey shirt with wholes in it.

I was disgusted and shocked and scared, I thought he was dead.

"Kent?" I questioned.

there was no response, but soon enough he mumbled.

He kept mumbling, and I began to gather myself in order to leave. I looked at him one last time and debated whether or not to stay with him, but I knew he'd be fine, the neighborhood was small and we had a tight community. I looked at his ashy face once more and began to walk away.

"I fucked up Jewly" I heard him mumble.

I stopped in my tracks and turned to face him. He was still in a heap, but his eyes were drouzily open. They were milimetres away from shitting against but he was looking at me blankly.

"I fucked up Jewly" he repeated, each time more sincere, and each time his voice became more unstable. Soon he was sobbing the words and all I could do is stand and stare.

My brain shut off again and I wasn't thinking again. But I wasn't all over his drunk ass either, I wasn't anything at that moment, I stood still.

I watched him shut his eyes again, and I heard the mumbles trail off as he slipped into a dream. My brain turned back on again, I focused for a good 15 minutes on the tears that left several trails down his face. I drew my eyebrows together and sighed in pain, I hated to see him like this,  I hated it.