Playing With Fire || d.h

22. Girls Fucking Suck

Your POV

I pay my fare, and step out of the taxi, onto the pavement in front of my apartment complex. A breeze blows my ponytail from one side of my head to the other as I hop up the steps and into the building. There's at least thirty people in the lobby, and at least five of them turn to me as I walk in, then go back to whatever they were doing. I carry my backpack on one shoulder as I march to the dingy staircase, until I end up in front of my apartment. I hurriedly unlock the door and barge in, throwing the door behind me. It would be just my luck for PJ, Dan or Phil to come out and see me for the first time in weeks wearing dirty sweatpants and carrying a bag full of drugs.

I open the windows in the living room, and hop on a stool to temporarily turn off the smoke alarm. I then scramble through a junk drawer in the kitchen until I find my lighter, buried under a pack of batteries and a sewing kit. I close the drawer and open my bag, pulling out the Altoids tin, and snap it open. The aroma forces itself into my nostrils, giving me extreme nostalgia. The joints are rolled and stacked next to each other perfectly, as if manufactured in a factory.

I pick one out of the small box, and carry it, along with the lighter, to my couch. I light one end, and stick the other in my mouth, inhaling as f I'm sucking on a straw. I take a few more hits, turning on my music at the same time.

Suddenly, a cloud seems to enter into my brain, and euphoria fills every cell in my body. I place the butt of the joint on a coaster, and lie back on the couch.

I start thinking about the last week, but my view of everything has done a complete 180. Why am I stressing so much about this? It's not like it's the end of the world. And why the hell have I been feeling so depressed? I have friends, a boyfriend, and a roof over my head. Not only that, I also still have my channel as well. What more do I need?

I turn on my phone, and notice a little red dot in the top right corner of my text app. I click on it, and it's a message from PJ, from three days ago.

Are you still alive? I miss you :(

Why was I such a pussy, and couldn't even text him back? I might as well meet up with him right now.

Before I text him back, however, I don't want to look a mess. I go to the bathroom and straighten my hair, and do my makeup. I then go through my closet, and put on a sexy black dress. Not wanting PJ to notice I'm high, I find some eye drops in my medicine cabinet. I make sure to air out my apartment as much as I can, turning on all my fans and spraying about half the Fabreze bottle. I pick up the joint from the coffee table, and brush the ashes onto the floor and under my couch.

I straighten up, but am immediately caught off guard with a sudden hankering for something sweet. I march over to my pantry, and find a box of cookies tucked into the back. I have no idea how long they've been there, but I honestly couldn't care less.

I pull the seal across the box, exposing the three nearly full rows of chocolate chip cookies calling my name. I grab one and shove half of it into my mouth, moaning in gratification.

I lean against the island behind me, sliding down to the floor. I mindlessly munch on the cookies, dazed and unfocused.

Before I know it, I find myself done with half the cookies, and thirty minutes have passed. What am I doing? I jump to my feet, seal up the box of cookies, and throw it back into my pantry. I have to take a second and place my hand on the wall closest to me, taking a second to regain my balance as my head violently starts spinning like a top, making me ridiculously dizzy. Once the painful cloud has escaped my brain, I go back to my couch, and fall onto the cushions. I zone out, not even aware of what's going on in my brain. And before I know it, I lose consciousness.