Today’s piece is a creative writing project. I’ve been writing about hard to digest concepts and want to change it up. Here is a free writing story, written today, September 11, @3:30 pm.
Chapter 1: Drunken Despair
Darkness.
It eats me whole.
Over takes me, tells me I’m too small.
Who am I to argue? It knows best.
I don’t know any other way to see, except in the dark.
The street lights were shining so bright, I used my hand to cover my eyes. Squinting, I could barely see anything.
I guess I shouldn’t have consumed my weight in shots, and then some. Even while hammered, my awareness remains.
“Katie, there you are! How did you end up out here, it’s freezing!! come back inside!” yelled my so called best friend.
We know each other from summer camp, and met when we were seven. She never left me alone, I couldn’t really tell her I was not too thrilled about being best friends. Eventually I started to have fun with her. But then, the fights began. Meaningless little things started to bother me. Enough about her, I should probably get up.
“What…who are you…” I mumbled, trying to be funny.
“Are you serious right now? Get your drunk butt inside, right now!” she screeched.
I pulled out my vape, lost my balance, and fell onto the curb. It’s ok, because I got it, and managed to take a hit. It’s still better than an actual cigarette, less smoke, no smell. Helps me chill. Except, everything seems to make me not chill, so I need to chill all the time! Maybe that’s only funny to me…
“Seriously, Katie. What is going on with you?” She came and sat beside me, “give me a hit if you’re gunna do this I want to be with you.”
At least she supports me more than my mother ever did. I moved out when I was 15 because her emotional abuse was so rabid that I couldn’t take it and decided to leave.
I think that’s when the darkness started.
It’s possible my darkness is the part of me that was abused for 15 years. I do count the time before my dreaded birth as emotional abuse because, she may have stopped smoking, and drinking, but she didn’t stop hating my father. He loves me more than anything, but my mother, he can’t stand.
How we got to the next day is a blur. I still have my phone, keys and wallet, but I may have lost my self respect. The darkness ate it. Swallowed it whole, like the guy I’m with tells me good girls do.
Another day, another dreaded day of life.
Why so dreary, you ask?
It’s not like life is so bad.
I mean, I am alive. I’d rather not be.
I’d rather be in heaven with my grammy.
She saved me from my mom.
The only person who truly understood the extent of mom’s emotional abuse, was grammy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Want to know what happens next?
Stay tuned for Chapter 2, next Wednesday.
Blessings,
With love and light,
Stay true, stay weird.
~~ Kristina