What Keeps You Sane ✔

[-5] Bike Rides

The next night, I felt so sad (for no apparent reason) that I left an hour early to go to the club. My mother didn't join me, in typical Thursday night fashion, so I was left alone.

I arrived at around 7 pm to see the place already crowded with young adults and booming with electronic music. I subtly danced, not drawing attention to myself on purpose. I looked around the room for someone to help me feel better.

I spotted a tall Hispanic guys munching on a platter of nachos in the corner of the room. He was attractive and looked to be alone, so I decided it was worth a shot. Acting confident, though of course I wasn't, I approached the guy in the way that I would wish to be approached. Respectfully, sweetly, and bluntly.

"Hey, uh, I was wondering if you'd join me in the second to last back room?" I asked with a fake, small smile on my face. They guy looked up from his nachos to observe me. His deep brown eyes traveled up and down my figure and inspected my face subconsciously, making me unnerved. I was expected to be rejected and was about to turn around when he nodded. I raised my eyebrows in slight surprise and waited for him, still slightly swaying my hips to the music.

He finished his last nacho and threw away the paper tray to take position of the leader. He swaggered to the back, confidence seemingly ridiculously high compared to my own. He opened the door and gestured for me to enter the room, no words exchanged. Once the door was shut and locked behind him, he stepped towards me and began working his mouth on my skin.

For some reason, I still wasn't satisfied. Of course it wasn't his fault. My own problems were getting the best of me and I knew that. All I wanted was to love myself how I loved Preston and be happy. No matter how many different guys I went through, I would continue to sleep with them until I got that.

So I screwed another guy that night. And another. And another.

~~~~

The next morning, my mental health was down the drain. After looking up ways people relieved stress, I decided to ride my bike to school instead of walk. Supposedly, people felt calmed and refreshed from a good bike ride. It also seemed easier than doing yoga or taking an art class.

I ate a single granola bar in preparation and dragged my old bike from beneath other strange childhood items in our garage. It was a bit too small for me, and had an annoying bell on it that kept ringing, but I could suck it up for my mental health. My goal was to one day be in a good enough state that I could be emotionally available to be with Preston. He was all I ever wanted.

My small backpack thankfully caused me no problems on the way to school, but I knew that I would have to bring home an extra textbook that night for an assignment. Hopefully that wouldn't take away my already faltering balance. My fairly short ride went unwavering and the dumb little bell never rang.

~~~~

Suspicions confirmed, I knew I was totally fucked for the bike ride home. I knew there was no way I could keep the heavy textbook (which felt like a large part of my weight) on my back and balance on the too small bike. But I tried anyway.

I sat on uncomfortable seat and leant forward, already feeling uneasy. I reminded myself that it was only two miles; I could make it home in no time. I pushed off and began peddling, shifting down one rusty gear when my book became too heavy. I had no muscle on me whatsoever, so physical work really wasn't my forte. Riding out of my school parking lot, I began my adventure home.

All to soon, I was forced to cross the street. Drivers were not paying attnetion to me at all. I kept my balance on the two thin wheels, halting in front of a speeding car. If I hadn't been extremely paranoid and aware, I would've been hit.

After being slightly rattled, I continued my wavering journey home. My knees hit my stomach once in a while during particularly fast pedals, because of my shifting down a gear. I felt as if I was slowly losing control and the pedals were spinning too fast for my legs. I tried to shift gears but my hands were too sweaty, as well as with the breaks. The bike was bumping on the slightly downward sloped sidewalk and my speed was gaining all too quick. Before I knew it, I was in the bushes of my neighbor's front yard, my textbook jamming into my back painfully and my bike half laying across my body.

Scratches and half formed bruises littered my pale skin and I felt extremely discouraged. I slipped out of my backpack, leaving it in the bush while I shoved my bicycle off of me. I shakily stood up from my crash scene, wishing someone was there to help me walk my bike home the last few blocks. I checked my injuries and dug in my bag for a small band aid on a particularly bloody scratch. A minute passed before I felt comfortable with finally getting home.

I lifted my backpack and slung it over my shoulders once again. I slowly reached for my bike, placing a steady hand on the saddle and another on the handlebars. My sluggish, painful walk home began then. My lazy stroll was picking up it's pace a small amount because of the slope of the sidewalk, but I ignored it. I traveled without riding the bike, but it still lost control again after turning a sharp corner and the bike fell over.

In frustration, I kicked the seat, not moving it at all. I couldn't even control a damn children's bicycle, let alone my own life. Everything seemed to be going wrong.

~~~~

I tried to fall asleep that night, but really couldn't. You'd think that fucking three guys in two hours would have made me tired, but it did quite the opposite. I took a deep breath in my bed and rolled over to see a text from Preston.

good night ♡ sleep tight