Addiction

chapter twenty one

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

I'm sorry i couldn't update for a while! School and home life is hectic. Another update tomorrow or the day after, depending on reads and blah blah blah.

BLAKE'S POV:

*FLASHBACK*

"It's not working out, you're too much Blake. Its constant problems with you," she blankly exhales.

"No, Alex don-"I beg, following quickly behind her to make sure she doesn't disappear out of my sights, and limp life.

My chest heavily aches.

"More unhappiness than happiness." She's progressing her way down the street towards the sport fields and I'm finding it hard to physically keep up. My breathing has gone to shit due to recent shock and my lack of exercise I endure. Lack meaning none.

She is the only strand of hope and ignorance I have left before I'm on my emotional rollercoaster of pure shit and loneliness again. I knew this was going to happen; it was only a matter of time. This was a waiting game, and the game is ending today to my dismay.

"I will make you happy Al, just please," I strain, attempting to caress her arm, only to be pushed off and stared at like I was some unappealing insect.

I want her so badly, I had her. And now I can't and don't. The feelings indescribable.

"Daniel makes me happy," Alex states. He is the reason. He is the cause.

"Daniel doesn't have what we have!" I roar, frustrated at this choosing game and outweighing on the positive/negative aspects of myself and Daniels life.

"HE HAS PARENTS!" she bursts. All goes numb and my useless world stops. I'm tempted to shed tears for what seems like the tenth time today. This topic is so unguarded and the fool that I'm foolishly-in-love-with brings it up to either win the conversation or silence it. As much as her accusation was uncalled for and irrelevant; I can't help but completely rotate it around just so it's opposite. It's vital to her so it's unfortunately- and unconsciously vital to me.

I do have parents Alex; it's just that one has disappeared and the other wishes my existence wasn't literal. But thankyou; I have been reminded yet once again.

My body decides to halt from walking, breathing and any movement together before my head inactively drops. "I'll leave your stuff on my front lawn this afternoon and if it's not gone by morning, it's going in the bin," she threatens.

I will collect it just as she goes to dispose of my belongings, in hope I will either change her mind, or touch her flesh that I fell in love with...for the last time. My person is pathetically hoping those last four words are very untrue.

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Its embarrassing thinking back on it now. I trusted her, so damn much that much I use to pour my heart and problems out to her endlessly only to get ignored back. But that was fine with me, in a weird twisted way. Her limp reaction and molecule of sympathy was better than no human contact at all.

How sad was I. How sad am I.

She never cared. But the fucked up factor in my head that was labelled "boyfriend girlfriend" made me convinced that she did. And now the fuckwit has permanently made me paranoid; making three-to-four different scenarios or meanings to everything Harper says to me or in general.

On the brighter note; it's been a solid eight months and I finally feel myself been placed on a new, happy track. This will stay until, you know, Harper takes off.