Summertime Sadness

I like the way the water hits the shore when the sun kisses the horizon. The way the ferris wheel, not too far from the sandy heat trap, spins lazily in the summer time.

I like the way alcohol hits you, the way it crawls through you slowly and takes ahold of you when you least expect it. The way you gaze around the room with a smile crawling up your face that will scar your features for the night, thinking that you don't care what's happening or what everyone's saying as long as you can continue poisoning yourself with the bitter liquid, dripping down your throat with the sharp tang of soda overtaking it, but not enough to block out the taste of bad decisions completely.

I love how you feel with the contents of your stomach purged up into a porcelain bowl, caked with regret and temptation. Your head spinning and the way your fingers, mixed with vomit and faint blood, shake uncontrollably as you stand above a horrid mess. The way your throat burns each time you heave, your stomach becoming clearer the more you help it rid itself of daily necessities. The way you wash yourself up, and clean the bathroom, and rinse your mouth and face, and I like the way the soda clicks when you pop it open, letting the carbonation sting your sore throat as it rushes to your empty center.

I like the way the night freezes your mind, lets you grow more in-touch with your thoughts. The calm, quiet that drags on for hours in which you can do nothing but think and think and drag yourself into a mental hell of self-hatred that springs tears to your already bloodshot eyes. Eyes bloodshot from the purge just moments before and the ice cold soda that followed. You can sit there and think about how worthless you are and how much you wish you were better and how you don't understand why you feel this way when the world is rather grateful to you.

You'll never get better though, will you? You'll continue to shove your fingers down your throat until your knuckles are scarred far worse than now and your teeth rot. You'll keep drowning yourself in shots until you can't feel your body, until being drunk isn't fun anymore, until you feel sad then, too. You'll keep walking throuh the sand, your feet buried beneath scorching hot white specs that seep between your toes. That feeling you like so much. You'll stare out at an expanding blue surface that reaches deeper than you'll ever know.

And you'll be sad, because you can't appreciate it anymore.