It was midnight, the moon hung high in the sky, alone, surrounded by a halo of stars. Seemingly so close, but an unfathomable distance apart from one another. The house was quiet, they were out again, enjoying not having a care in the world, I was nineteen and no longer an insane priority of theirs, or it seemed as such in comparison from their antics then vs now. I looked at my phone again, ritualistically checking in on my own isolation. She didn’t text back, I guess at this point it isn’t even a reply, just a sign that she’s still breathing. She was my best friend, but lately she’d been feeling less than amazing, which is horrible to say the least considering she’d just given her life and soul to her mother. Staying behind, skipping out on a future, all because her father’s was cut short, and her mother’s was hanging on shoestrings. No amount of sweet words and wishes of kisses and ignorant bliss of the shit swirling around us, cuddled up next to a good read, lost in our wonderland, would be enough to bring her to see that she’s more than monikers of slut and worthless beseeched to her by the last living parental.
Classes were starting in a week, three semesters in and it still feels like middle school. The seriousness of it all hasn’t set in yet, I still have no clue what I want to do. My futures at stake, I wish I’d known a birthday and diploma would open the doors to the real world, one where you’re quickly saddled up with a mountain of worries and pressure to do this and that and everyone throwing their advice and opinions at you no matter what direction you temporarily turn to. If I’d known that, maybe I’d have done better. Not have dicked around as much, but nothing was serious, no one cared, you passed and they were happy. But the standard jumps a mile high afterwards, while we just wasted our time trying to join the club.
These are the nights I feel like smoking my lungs away, at least I can control it. I can count the black candlesticks burning away smoothly between my lips, filling up this car running on empty at all hours.
I have work in the morning, and I might be tired and dead by then, but Ill just turn into a machine, and mumble through the day, being adequate at best.