How to Unkill Yourself [ruby da cherry]

One of Those Nights

     I slammed the door behind me, knowing that even the harsh sound wouldn't wake my now ex boyfriend. The cool night air gave me goosebumps as I packed the last of my belongings into my car. I got inside, randomly chose a direction, and started driving. Tonight was the night I decided to leave my old life behind and finally try to put my talents to better use.

     My art was always a big part of my life, and for the two years I've been an adult I haven't truly been able to focus on it. I moved into my ex's apartment when I turned 18 and at that point there wasn't much for me to do. I had an alright job as a bartender which was nice, until the owner fired me a few weeks ago due to overstaffing. Job or no job, I knew that I had to get out into the world and actually make an effort myself.

     Maybe running out on my boyfriend at 2 AM without saying a fuckin' thing wasn't the best way to do this, but it was the only way I was comfortable. After all, I was never a very consistent nor reliable person, but it was only because I had better things in mind for myself. It was definitely selfish, but something inside me was screaming for me to leave. This feeling, voice, whatever it was, was telling me that there was something better for me out there than the life I was leading up to this point.

     My internal monologue about right and wrong was interrupted by a call, which freaked me the hell out until I saw who it was, and then I knew I had made the right choice. I clicked "answer" on my phone and it connected to my car's speakers.

     "Wow," My best friend, Eric, started. "I didn't expect you to answer." I laughed a bit, excited to tell him what I was up to.

     "Why wouldn't I answer you?" I cheekily asked. I smiled to myself as I heard Eric chuckle over the phone.

     "I was under the impression you'd be with your boyfriend right now,"

     I dryly laughed before telling him, "Ex boyfriend, you mean." My demeanor turned from excited to contrite as the words escaped my mouth. I did feel bad for what I had done, but there was no going back. Eric sarcastically, yet dramatically gasped, turning my remorseful mood to one that was a bit more lighthearted.

     "What happened with Daniel?" He asked, now more serious in tone. I shook my head even though I knew he couldn't see me.

     "Honestly... nothing. I just had this urgent feeling in the pit of my stomach telling me to leave. So, I packed all my shit and now I'm driving fuck-knows-where," That was the truth, and the truth was seldom good. Eric was silent for a moment.

     My hands started sweating, my heart sped up, and time seemed to slow down. I don't know what I would've done if my best friend thought I was the piece of shit I convinced myself I was.

     "Do you need a place to stay?" He finally spoke, causing me to let out a small sigh of relief.

     "Eric, I don't have the money right now for a flight to Florida," I could hear him start to laugh. I pulled into a QuickChek parking lot, not wanting to talk about any of this while driving.

     "It'll be my way of paying you back for every design idea you let me take credit for," Eric said. I slouched back in my seat, I couldn't believe he wanted to "repay" me for letting him take my shitty ideas.

     "I never cared about you taking credit, dude, you know this," I said. "Besides, It was only, like, three tiny things. That doesn't add up to a plane ticket, does it?" My words lingered in the air, unanswered, as the line went dead. I took my phone from my lap and checked to see if it had died, and was slightly hurt when the bright screen displayed the time: 2:47 AM.

     I didn't know why I couldn't have just said: "Yes, that's really nice of you, thank you." Because, fuck, I really didn't know where else I would go. I decided, after a long minute of sitting in my own disappointment, to ignore these thoughts and go into the store. The fluorescent lights and low pop music playing in the background calmed me in a way.