Saturday, March 21

The end of a short I wrote for my creative writing coursework

Its day break and my sandpaper mouth and I have found ourselves waking up in the company of strangers. Faces that look as haggard as I feel glance up at me discerningly before falling back on to pillows and empty patches of kitchen floor; I guess that’s my cue to leave and lord knows I’m going to take it.

Grimacing all the way, I pull myself up off of the sofa I was lucky enough to have passed out in, make my way over to front door and from there to the bus stop. I light a cigarette my mouth is far too dry to smoke and I sit and wait for the bus to pull up and take me away from the ghost of last night and in to the warmth and comfort of my own bed and the familiar solitude of my own bitter company.

A man sat next to me smiles a little as I choke and cough on my own cigarette smoke, I’m not entirely sure if I feign one back or not but I sure as hell know that I’ve never felt less inclined to smile back at anyone in my entire life.

It’s the long and depressing ride home that hits me the hardest, leaving me with nothing to do but think about my life and how sour things have gotten for me as of late, and how sour I’ve made things for just about everyone I’ve come in to contact within the last six or so months.
As far away from happiness as I’ve ever been, I place my pounding little head against the window and draw little lowercase X’s in the condensation.

I cast my mind back to the night before: drinks too tall, anecdotes half slurred, half spat, the argument Sara and I had for what must have been the seventh time that week and the harsh exchange of bitter truths and threats that don’t sound as empty as they did three weeks ago.

“I’m telling you now; I have had it up to here with you and your self deprecating bullshit!”

“Oh, yeah? Like I have time to deal with you and your absolute refusal to at least flirt with the idea of looking at the bigger picture; what is it you do when you’re not busy thinking about yourself?”

Bitter put downs and snide remarks trailed off in to the ether...

And that was just the bus ride from my house to wherever the hell that party was.
Funny thing is; I can’t for the life of me figure out who was in the wrong back there, nor can I understand why it is the two of us are only ever happy when it’s at the other’s expense.

It’s a life lead in the dark with one hand constantly hovering over the self destruct button, the best and the most I can do about any of this is –

My phone rings and I lose my train of thought. It’s my mother of course and for a moment I debate as to whether or not I should take the call or fall asleep.

I choose the latter

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