Young Writers Society

As a kid I used to wake in the night and hope for the sun. The darkness troubled me; my imagination supplied many creatures with fantastical mouths to lurk beyond the range of my vision. Now I embrace it. The night offers cover from the flesh and blood of the day, the ones with their guns and official badges, the ones who can be judge, jury and executioner in the name of freedom. Even on moonlit of nights, I blend into the city shadows, staying clear of those pools of yellow light that flow from the street-lamps, hiding from anyone who might be suspicious. The only reason to risk out at night is to join the game, the game where everyone misses and the reward is almost non-existing.

Only accompanied by the moon and the blinking yellow lights from light posts, I feel emptier than ever. I feel empty and alone. Nothing feels real. I do not feel sad but just numb, uncomfortably numb. Like I am on another ruthless trip, just without any drug to cause it. When I started hearing voices I wondered why I wasn`t able to fix them. Does pain have to be felt in the back of the throat to be real? And I wondered if I could die before my body did. You tried to make me point out the place it hurt, but I couldn`t. Told you about the voices, the ones you didn`t hear and you promised that I would be okay. That was a lie. It`s been three years, and the voices are about to win. I`m sick. I`m fighting this was against something that does not actually have a cure. I`m lost.

I am walking down this street with a destructive plan in my mind, like numerous nights before. However, tonight is different, and once again, I’m here with my pockets full of dope, waiting to make some quick bucks in the end. Nobody assume someone my size to be the middle man of one of major drug circles in the nation, that’s why I can distribute. Day in and day out I do the same procedure, pick up the shit, get a brief description of the costumers, wait, deliver, eat, get on a bus, deliver, get home, sleep. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

Often I find myself wondering how I even got into this; it is because of the number one stupid motive for any stupid decision ever: love. The lovely, purest, most gut wrenching form of torture. Yet the one I find myself seeking desperately like a love-struck teenager.

When you left dear, I stopped looking for happy endings, and reasons to smile. I stopped observing the shape of the clouds and the color of the grass, I stopped smiling at people in the street and stopped talking about the things I found beautiful. It felt like everything just stopped all together, I was stuck in time, everything spinning forwards without me.

I do not talk about you, because people expect me to be over you by now. You screwed me over so many times and hurt me so much I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same again, but somehow you’re still the only one I think about when I look at the foot of my 7th shot that night. When somebody says your name and I can see our memories replaying when I close my eyes for a millisecond. You are continuously there, always in the back of my mind reminding me of what happened. I know I should be over it by now, but I guess I like the way swallowing your name leaves a rambling burning line down my throat. I was the drunkest woman surrounded by the most alcoholic men, and you would wonder why I drink. Whereas you drink to cool down, I drink to forget you.

There are so many things I should’ve never told you. Because now you see, I am harbouring crushing secrets I am too afraid cannot even acknowledge anonymously.

In nature, lively colours assist as a warning sign of poison. The livelier the colour, the more deadly the substance is. And your eyes, god, your eyes, were the wildest gloom of navy that I had ever seen. It is really no wonder that they stopped my heart the second you looked at me, and the colour represented the poisonous hurt you left me. Adoring you was simply like swaying around a sleeping tiger. The excitement was intoxicating; but the consequences were lethal.

That is why I had to move, away from you and everything that reminded me of us. Still, I find myself looking for your replacement, trying to find a part of you in every person I meet, telling myself that I am over you. Sleeping with whoever and downing shots to get you out of my mind, and I know you would be mad if you knew that I am on the verge of screwing up my life. But you’re not mad, because you have no idea what I’m doing, and frankly I don’t think you care anymore.

Carter Lane was certainly not boring, never an unexciting moment. A attractive face. Well defined, with a sharp jaw and cheekbones. The nature of his skin goes well with his colourless eyes. Known by people as someone who never backed down, and never gave up. He was surprisingly intelligent as well, it did not take me long to realize how he never was caught for making various drugs, he was simply a genius, which is rare among people in this kind of business. My body required his like the mind craves information and the stomach craves nourishment. It felt like we were worlds in some solar system, and I could not break from his intense gravity. I desired him, and my mind turned to him with every minute that passed by.

Or so I thought, because he lacked the one thing I wanted the most: He was just not you.­­ And I realized that the biggest difference was the way he looked at me, like I was a piece of meat and he hadn’t eaten in four days. Nothing about us was tender loving, it is simply lustful, and lust is not satisfying forever. Honestly, I do not mind. I am too messed up for any kind of affection.

And when it ended, and I couldn’t reach you it hit like a hurricane. I remember sitting in a corner squeezing my knees and pleading myself to stop crying. I can still hear that heart-breaking dial tone when you hung up. I cried that night, the morning after, and the whole next month. I just could not accept that it was over, and I still can’t.

You see, two years ago you saved my life, you showed me all the reasons I should be happy. You promised to stay by my side, and too never give up. Yet, you did when I was in a psychotic state. I broke every boundary I have ever had; I told you every secret, and every thought. I let you get inside of my mind, and I let you see everything. And you left, just like that. Leaving me in pain, confusion and wondering why. Now it’s been hundred days since I last saw you, and you still keep me up at night, and I can’t deal with this.

I once told you that if you gave up, I had no reason to keep on going. And darling, I’ll keep my word, even if you didn’t.