Streets

1· I Need Help

I walked around on the street, my curly blonde hair running down my back. I looked around on the streets. Drug dealers stated at me, some catcalling.

But I was used to this.

It was my everyday life in Brooklyn.

While growing up, I wanted to be a New York City girl. I always wanted to be the queen of all, and I used to brag a lot.

Got a cat? Brag.
Got a new phone? Brag.
Got a car? Brag.
A lot of bragging happened in my childhood years.

I stopped by the entryway of a bar, the urge to smoke murdering me. I took out a cigarette and lit it up. I inhaled, smoking the cigarette. I took it out, and exhaled, erupting with a gust of gray smoke. I tapped the end of the cigarette, making it fall off. I dropped the bud and continued walking. My blue eyes trailed off to all the dealers.

I walked into my aparment, dropping my bags and throwing myself on the couch. The TV played the new music that was well known in Brooklyn streets. Many cars blasted this music, and so did parties.
But I was never invited to parties.

In my teenage years, I wasn't that 'party hard' girl.
I was that shy, don't study, go on your phone all day girl.
It was kinda rare to find those girls.
And for that, people stopped inviting me to parties.
Men ignored me.
The popular women stopped talking to me.

Did I give a crap?
No.

I looked out the window, seeing those kids play.

If only they knew what was gonna hit them.
The streets of Brooklyn?
Never a good place to grow up.

I smiled and laughed at the fights. I laughed at how the people tried stopping them. I laughed at how stupid they are.

It's just hilarious to think about it.

They fight for stupid reasons.

I've always avoided getting in or stopping a fight.

And I succeeded.

I went back to the couch, smoking another cigarette.

You know the process.

My phone buzzed, but I ignored it.

My sister blasted my phone,
The music blasted my house,
It gave me a headache.

I screamed, I could just feel the street worrying of who that was.

My hands held my head tightly as I screamed at the loud sounds.

And I was suppose to get used to these sounds.

My headache intestified.

I went to the thing I trusted most at these times.

Drugs.

I did the process of, taking drugs.

I leaned against the wall, about to collapse.

I had came back from the bar,
And so I was very drunk.
The cigarettes didn't help.
And the drugs?
Never any help.

I groaned, so close to falling over.

And I slid against the wall, wanting to run to my phone.
But I just couldn't move.

I closed my eyes, groaning loudly.

And at this time,
All I wanted was for someone to help me.
No one was ever there to though.

Never there to help me,
Never there to love me,
Never there for me..

And I didn't care.

I was independent.

I got up with much force, and went back out on the streets, no idea to what I'm doing.

I stumbled, and leaned against a brick wall.
I slid down again, chuckling drunkly.

And I closed my eyes,
Saw black,
And probably died.

She doesn't die, chill. But I do need a cover, and that's not coming soon. I'm out of space on my phone. But here you go. Im planning to make Daveeds love story.
But that doesn't have a cover.
Oh well,
Its 1:59 and I'm writing a wattpad fanficiton.
That's life.

629 Words
Published at 2:01AM