Everlong

...lightvanguardbynight

Not so fast. I actually thought that that surreal feeling of contentment would last. Jokes on me. I close my eyes for a few seconds. They burn. 

"Drinks are on me, Amy" he says. 

I sigh. I'm caught up with him. No, this isn't the Killer or the Brother. It's him. I've screwed myself over, yet again. I caught myself up in the life of some dark entity. The two of us are in some bar in "God Only Knows Where". He asked for a booth. Not a stool at the bar. A booth. In the corner. These nights are going haywire. 

I go from the content feeling of happiness. Then I become too free and things turn for the worse. Instability. 

I'm simply the king of instability. I look down at the drink-stained table. It's just dark enough to see everything, but not light enough to comfortably read. I look up, stretch my neck and close my eyes with my head in my hands. Tears are running down my face. I get up, run out of the door and leave. I get into my car and sit in the back seat, curl up and fall asleep. 

He can't and somehow will not leave my dreams. Some believe that when you dream about someone, it means that they are thinking about you. Every night, I'm convinced he's back in Jersey. I'm convinced. The past few days have consisted of me waking up in the happiest of tears, then to soon realize that he's not in my presence. 

The feeling of feeling nothing is one of the worst things on earth. I haven't eaten for days. Water has been the extent of my "meals". I'm on the floor. If I move too fast, I will pass out. I can hear my heart beating in my chest. I look around and see small bright little lights in my vision. If I thought it mattered enough, I'd get up and put myself somewhere more comfortable than a tile floor. Right now, it doesn't matter to me. There's a bruise on my left arm. I have no clue where it came from, but it's the size of a softball. Again, it doesn't matter to me. I'm on a steady decline yet again. Maybe passing out would be the best thing that could happen.