Empathy

Chapter One: First Meeting

I sit on the edge of my tub, a lit cigarette resting between my lips. The cherry burning red close enough to my lips I could feel the heat. I inhale the toxic smoke deeply as I stare out into the dark city street below. My mind and body exhausted. I exhale the smoke leaving the toxic chemicals in tar behind in my lungs. I look down to the empty streets five stories below me. Wondering how quick it would be over if I would just jump.

A tear slips from my eye and streams down my cheek. It's terribly depressing knowing the only way out is death, I think as I flick my burnout cigarette out the window. I look down at the street, it taunting me with relief. I shake my head as I close the window and blinds.

I walk out of the bathroom and through my living room sitting down on the sofa my mother gave to me when I moved out. The clock on the TV screen, says 02:00 am. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone I can barely afford and read through the last messages James, my ex sent me before he decided we were through. The sad part is, even though he left me, I don't want to leave him. He blocked my number the day we split, haven't seen or heard from him since.

I switch from my messages and open my Facebook and and scroll through my news feed. It's filled with nothing but rich kids using their mommy's and daddy's money to do the things I only dream of doing. I want to travel, live life with little worry. I just want to be happy, but that's impossible. I have a car loan that I can barely afford, rent, utilities, and whatever life throws my way. I barely afford to eat weekly, let alone fly to Cancun for spring break. Hell I'm stuck working my way through an online college, that surprisingly, I can manage to squeeze into my already tight budget.

I lock my phone as I stand to my feet. I need fresh air. I slide my phone into my back pocket, grab my jacket and keys. I lock my apartment door behind me, walking down the stairs and out into the brisk autumn night. The bitter wind bit at my skin and the street lamps and moonlight join together to light the dark streets. I begin to walk, hopping it'll help me clear my mind a bit.

I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out a pack of half-empty cigarettes. I grab a cigarette, put the pack back into my pocket, and lit the cigarette as I placed it in between my lips. I inhale the poison deeply focusing on the world in front of me. A world that one day I'll hopefully never be apart of. I exhale the smoke and listen as the browning leaves wrestle with the wind. Mesmerizing, it is. The world is full of opportunity to those who deserve it, but for some reason the world has it out for me. Because every time I see a door of opportunity it's slammed closed in my face.

If I knew being an adult was going to be so hard I would have ended it years ago. But I had hopes and dreams then. I wanted, and still want to, be a Psychiatrist but I can't afford school and will have to drop out soon. I've tried for student loans which were denied. I ask my mother, but she was to worried about other things, and explained to me multiple times how she thinks I won't stick it through. So I got stuck with the paying out of pocket, because apparently some degenerate rich kid deserves a loan more than I do.

Then there's the fact that my ex, out of the blue, no longer wanted anything to do with me. What in the hell did I do to make him want to get rid of me? Breathing probably. To top off the cake my jobs is full of false hope and promises. I've been feed so much bullshit that I don't know when or if they're telling the truth at that place anymore. Stick it through Spencer, your day is coming, that's all that I hear from them. Not one genuine compliment, just complaints and reprimands.

I sit down in the empty bench of the dark and empty park. The light from the street lamps couldn't reach this far from the main road, leaving me alone in the darkness to clear my thoughts.

If life wasn't so hard, I wouldn't be here now. I would be living my dream. I would be on a yacht somewhere in the pacific ocean, or receiving a grammy for best actor. Something, something better than this. Something else besides death that I could look forward to in the morning. I want to be happy, I want to succeed. But that'll never be possible.