Happy Little Pill

"I'm going out." I say. "I'll be back later." With that I leave my mum, dad and brother in our new house in London that we've now been living in for 3 months. I miss my boyfriend, Phil, and I just need some fresh air.

I walk down the night streets, just walking, past all the people flooding the streets, that look like they have things to do and places to be. I look at my phone, I've been out for 10 minutes. Phil's not with me, like he would have been if I still lived in Wokingham.

In the crowd, alone. And every second passing reminds me I'm not home...

The light and sounds are killing my head and they don't seem to stop. My eyes just want to close from all the obnoxious lights. The sounds of the chatter, cars and sirens pound my eardrums.

Bright lights and city sounds are ringing like a drone...

What am I doing here? Nothing seems right. It feels like I'm not supposed to be here. I have so many emotions I'm feeling right now, I don't know what's going on.

Unknown, unknown...

I see so many people looking like they're just staring into oblivion, blank stares into space and people crying. They look like unloved unloving, nothing to live for, aliens.

Oh, glazed eyes, empty hearts...

I walk in and out of shops and I see people with carts and baskets with things, stuff like beauty products, video games, fashion clothes, etc. They seem to all have glum faces and like there's nothing better they could be doing, no one they could be with.

Buying happy from shopping carts...

No one seems rushed. No one seems to have anywhere to be, nothing at all to do, and no one fun to see.

Nothing but time to kill...

It's dark now. I'm on my way home and people sitting on the side of the pavement and leaning against buildings with bottles and cans in their hands. They seem so dull, most of them drunk or getting there.

Sipping life from bottles...

Young girls with short dresses and tight tops that seem like they're trying to be someone else, someone they're not because they're so uncomfortable being who they really are. I see women who look too fake with all the make up, tight cloths and damaged hair with big buff men at their hip.

Tight skin, body guards...

Other women walk around in office-like attire. They have designer clothes and hand bags that looked more expensive than life itself with a mobile or Bluetooth right at their ears and unhappy faces.

Gucci down the boulevard...

"Why are you wasting all our money on drugs, Pete. You know we have kids, Pete!" I hear a door slam and open again. "See you don't even care, you don't even love your own kids!" She screams even louder. "Shut up woman, you only care about money!" I'm almost home.

Cocaine, dollar bills...

I walk into my house "Honey, there's dinner in the-" "I'm not hungry" I rush into my room and jump on my bed and pull out my phone.

And...

Pictures and videos of Phil and I are all I see and hear. I close my eyes and picture the memories and how happy I used to be.

My happy little pill...

I remember all the fun times we had and all the cute moments we shared. My mind lights up and gets brighter somehow.