Pointed Gun

What I want. .

Boston

I SHOULDN'T be here. Yet, here I am. Against the better judgment and mental sense I had left.

Every part of my brain quizzed itself on my past and previous decisions in one huge jumbo I couldn't quite comprehend.

Why I choose to do this and why I decided to do that. Each one only leading to one simple answer that could've easily come just like that.

Because I wanted to. Not that I actually enjoyed any of it. But because it canceled out pain and self-blame and. . .And any other humanly emotion I dreaded to experience every single day of this life.

Happiness. Excitement. Pleasure. Anger. They all led to death.  No matter how they appeared to make us feel normal, they were evil. I'd witnessed those tragedies plenty of times before.

Not again.

My knuckles became pearl white as I squeezed the breath out of my stirring wheel in thought. Breathing shallow. Heavy. Lost.

I have no clue why I do it to myself all the damn time. Reminiscing too hard or trying to understand me as if it's a sport and I want that trophy. Keeping my thoughts near me for long never done me any good, so I organized them into a box and shoved it under a pile of other shit I would never rummage through again to see if it would work.

If I'm thinking about them now, that means it didn't. It never does.

Don't bring up the past again you sack of shit. It only drags back nightmares.

Without much overthinking left on my plate, I unbuckled my seatbelt, relieving the pressure off my chest. I took a deep inhale for the rest. I only accepted this invite for one reason. I am here for one reason, and one reason only. At least, that was my plan. I could never be too sure what hers could be after the afternoon we had previously. Drowning my head under lake water after my actions could be her new favorite game.

Getting out of my car, I stare blankly at the small dingy brick building sitting against trees inches out from where I parked. I quickly took into account the groups swarmed around, talking and drinking as if the fun inside wasn't suitable enough for their tastes. Mindless children they all are. Dancing in a playground that'll never let them go.

Women dressed in short, skimpy outfits to appeal to the men willing to buy their time for a quick vaginal shag plague the scene disgustingly. Disgusting pieces of work.

I tell ya', the day I decide to put my dick in one of them, will be the beautiful day I no longer want to live.

Where the hell did this woman invite me?

"Why such the long face, big boy?" As if the women smelled my fear of being noticed, a dirty blonde with shady emerald eyes—clearly glossed over with the polish of alcohol— stepped between me and my view of the door leading inside. How close I was to escaping what clearly appeared inescapable.

As a reaction and strangely on cue, I shuffled back. The expected strong odor of alcohol on her breath there and whiskey being her choice of drink. Not to mention the clear sign of dancing sweat on her body. If the look of disgust could've been any bigger on my face, good looking would no longer be in my description.