Help Me
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- Votes 2
- Parts 1
Ongoing6m
Last published Tue, Oct 22, 2013
The very moment I wake up every morning, when there is no past, no future. Where I receive a bright spark of hope washing over me. Then reality sets in, memory's flood throughout my entire body sending a horrid taste of bile at the back of my throat. I suppose I should be used to it by now, seeing as I have woke up to this every morning for the past three years - that sense of false hope that is destroyed by a reminder of that night.The night that made me the way I am, that made me an outcast, a delinquent with a disgraceful attitude, the kid all teachers hate.
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#162
smoking
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𝙲𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙳𝚊𝚢𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚜
Hunter is a bad habit I can't quit. He's smoke in my lungs, a slow-burning addiction, the kind that lingers long after he's gone. And no matter how many times I tell myself to stop-to forget, to move on-I always end up chasing the high of him all over again. It's pathetic, really. How just seeing him at school can flip my entire mood. How even when he's being cruel, I catch myself wishing he'd say my name instead. How I hate him-God, I hate him-and then, without fail... I fall again. They all think I'm delusional. That I romanticize the worst parts of him. That I've turned some reckless, indifferent boy into something worth loving. But they don't see what I do. They don't notice the cracks in the armor, the glimpses of something real underneath. Maybe I am delusional. Maybe I'm drowning in a fantasy of my own making. But if loving him is a slow, self-inflicted destruction- Then light the match. I'll burn for him anyway.Complete
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Hunter is a bad habit I can't quit. He's smoke in my lungs, a slow-burning addiction, the kind that lingers long after he's gone. And no matter how many times I tell myself to stop-to forget, to move on-I always end up chasing the high of him all over again. It's pathetic, really. How just seeing him at school can flip my entire mood. How even when he's being cruel, I catch myself wishing he'd say my name instead. How I hate him-God, I hate him-and then, without fail... I fall again. They all think I'm delusional. That I romanticize the worst parts of him. That I've turned some reckless, indifferent boy into something worth loving. But they don't see what I do. They don't notice the cracks in the armor, the glimpses of something real underneath. Maybe I am delusional. Maybe I'm drowning in a fantasy of my own making. But if loving him is a slow, self-inflicted destruction- Then light the match. I'll burn for him anyway.
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