It’s interesting when you catch a glimpse of the growth of someone’s life via internet. I’m currently eyeing the likes of someone who is falling in love, breathtakingly so, another who is lonely, hurt and confused and can’t bring themselves to let go and one other that is embracing the feeling of utter freedom as they move into their first apartment.
I’m usually the wet blanket that grouches about how much they hate tumblr, but just this one time, it’s worth it. Just for this.
I’m not in the mood for another damn highschool party. But why not go? They both got drunk as shit and it’s around 9:30 when we’re lying down on the rocks, just out of sight from the other drunk partygoers. Light from the bonfire just peaks around the corner but doesn’t touch us.
“I hope you don’t mind me psycho-analyzing you,” he says, accent thick and slurring, liquidified from all the booze, “but you’re scared of leaving him. You don’t know what he’s going to do and you don’t know how you’re going to handle being alone.”
“You’re addicted into being in a relationship” she pipes in, a little less slurry.
“And no matter how much you want to break up with him, there’s still a part of you that loves him.”
I had picked up a rock from the sand and had been rolling it around in my hand. To make up for the lack of thoughts I should have been rolling around in my hand. Now I’m gripping it, knuckles white and I’m standing up.
“Hey, where’re you going?” she asks.
“Oh, no where.”
No where at all.
And there’s a growl building up in my throat and suddenly, savagely, I smash the rock into the ground.
Their inaudible gasps are nothing to me and I storm off, that unexpected rage building up in my throat and it scares me because I don’t get angry. I feel like I should cry but it’s just a scream, that bit of rage that builds up in your throat, so I’m stepping earthquakes down the shoreline and try and press down that feeling with another cigarette.
He’s calling after me. He’s stumbling after me.
I stop and don’t turn around.
“I acted out of line, I shouldn’t have sai-“
And I’m beating the ground, uplifting dirt and sand with my feet and trying to dig a grave.
I have never gotten angry. I have never screamed and I want to punch my knuckles bloody red against a wall.
“FUCKING HELL. WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT THE FUCK AM I-“
And it’s gone. The rage just dissipates and I’m standing there in a little dipit in the ground.
That was my apology, calm, quiet and blissful.
“That doesn’t usually happen.”
“It doesn’t matter, you needed that.”
He wraps me up and says “hold on.” and I Iimply return the hug
“No. Hold on tight. Strangle me. Put in every bit of that anger in you and just crush me” says the 6’2 boy to the 5’3 girl. “Get it out.”
And with every last bit my arms could muster I’m squeezing and crushing and holding on for dear life, trying not to cry.
Only for a second though and I let go. I can’t hold on because I’m too tired.
“Hey.” he rummages through his pocket and sloppily tosses me a pack of DK’s. “You really need all these right now.”
Yeah I do.
He stumbles around for a bit. Walks away, walks back, walks in circles and I call after him, “I’m not angry at you.”
“I’m not angry at you, I’m just…. Angry. Frustrated. I don’t fucking know.”
“S’fine lady. I get it.”
I have no thoughts though for I am lost. Never alone, but lost. In truth, I don’t know what to feel. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to say. I just don’t fucking kn-
My not-train of thought stops as he makes a weird sort of noise before falling to the ground.
“….Liam. You awake?”
He’s down for the count.
I sit down next to him in the sand and light another smoke.
You don’t even have to say it out loud. Once you even think of leaving, there really isn’t any going back.
Now go reblog my pseudo-deep post you heartsick teenagers.
Fuck me up the ass with an exacto knife, my english teacher is a SJW…
…. weeeell at least I’m an asian female, told my friend to try not to get marks deducted simply because he’s a white male.