whispers and mutters • blasnique

Chapter Seventeen

UNIQUE

The loneliness kills like needles to the bone. The emptiness and isolation that lies within the atmosphere fill my mind with melancholia that's encouraged by the wish of running down against someone's skin. The strong desire for company has lingered my thoughts for quite some time; and it kills whenever the brew seethes at such lonely nights.

Lonesome is what they call me, 'cause of how alone I am in spite of being surrounded by many.

Say I should cut the bull and sleep the night away – but what if it's already close to what they call the day? What's the point of sleeping through the agony I've continuously suppressed? It's all completely pointless.

Counting sheep never helped. It was like counting to the end of my sanity until I pass out on the bed. It's torture but a slower and less painful process – it's the sanity that gets tortured.

Questions float around my head like cumulus clouds that sit on the horizon. It's not like it ain't a normal thing for me to think for too much at all. Every morning or even afternoon, I wake up to the realization that I am an idiot; and the problem is I barely even sleep anymore.

I hit my head with my closed palm repeatedly.

Blaster's in my head once again.

It really does deeply frustrate me whenever I think of the kid at nights like this.

He's the new subject of the devil on my left shoulder. He's the sinister whisper in my ear. Although I've pictured him as the devil's call most of the time whenever I come across the thought of him, he's merely just a sinful temptation I could never resist.

Thus, I have regrettably dialled his phone number, tragically, to no avail.

There comes that horrid feeling once again where I wish I could do the actions I've been longing to do; where I long for the desire of something new; but where I also realize that everything just remains a god forsaken wish floating with the wind like dry leaves in autumn.

I'm not usually like this.

This isn't me.

I'm always characterized to be some goner guitarist who never really knew how to read notes ever since the eighth grade. It's not me to ring up a friend at night just because I'm not fond of how often the loneliness eats me up until the break of day.

Goddamn, that's right. I'm just lonely. I'm just darned lonely, alright.

But is it still loneliness when an imaginary companion's already provided but you're still yearning for something else? Or am I wanting a specific person to be the company I wish for?

It's a battle between the physical senses and the inner workings of the mind to comprehend what the hell I feel behind me right now 'cause I'm sure as hell this just might be another hallucination.

I convince myself to think that this odd perception of a woman that appears every lonesome night of mine is merely a figment of my imagination. Maybe it's solely a brain damage caused by my overuse of hallucinogens; but what do I know about medicine anyway?

"You're a fool, you know?" I hear that nameless voice once again from behind me, "I am aware, but it's not that you have to shove the fact right up my face." 

"Sometimes, I just wander helplessly over the thought of punching you in the face for being so withdrawn from of your surroundings." I roll my eyes at her, who just sat beside me on the couch and hung her arm around my shoulders. "Thanks, gal. Didn't need that but we gotta bless ourselves upon God's grace." I say as I avoid eye contact with her, "Dumbass.." She chuckles. "God doesn't exist.. It's your foolishness that does. Be wary sometimes, okay? Sometimes you gotta think outside the box and think about other things than sex magazines and beer, you sick fuck."

"That's not how you use the phrase 'think outside the box' though."

"Yeah, and what's the point you're trying to prove, huh?" She answered threateningly. Her look was aggressive and so was the way she took me down on the couch. She firmly placed her hands on my shoulders as she was on top and I was just staring into the dark abyss of hypnosis that was her darkening eyes.

"Don't you dare outsmart me, you bitch. I'm you. I'm the awful person that you are. If I'm a fucking fool to your eyes, you're fucking fooling yourself. Douchebag." 

And right after those words, she just disappeared into thin air.

I could sigh the pent up breath out but not the unexpressed terror. Nothing could really kill you that much but yourself, huh?

Well played, world. Well goddamned played.