»part 14 » painfully beautiful

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"I think we were cursed from the start...second I let you into my heart...." - heaven - pvris

Have you ever been so tired to the point where you feel strangely hyperactive?

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Have you ever been so tired to the point where you feel strangely hyperactive?

Your eyes are heavy and your brain is demanding serene sleep, but your body refuses to stop moving? So tired that your body convinces you that you have more energy than you actually do? The type of tired that makes your body feel like it was injected with gasoline, fueling every inch of your limbs with chaos until you finally crash and burn?

That's the kind of high I'm on right now.

My eyes feel like they could close at any second while my brain is screaming at me in confusion. My brain is telling me that I need rest, that I need to stop for one second to breathe. But my body? My body is being run by the substance that I've succumbed to. My hands are shaking and my legs are tingling. I feel like I need to break out into a run but I know the second I move; my eyes will demand to be felt and I'll be sung the sweet melody of sleep.

Instead of running a marathon, I've decided to walk around the southside aimlessly for hours with my earbuds in. Music courses through my veins as I tap my fingers against my thigh. Everything in my limbs tells me to sprint, but my brain is trying to defeat those demons.

The addict is what causes the fidgeting. She makes my skin tingle and itch with every deathly whisper. Right now, it's like my addict and my conscience are in a boxing match. There's a huge boxing ring right in the middle of my brain showcasing two enemies toe-to-toe. On one side, we have my conscience. Frail and withered, she stands with shaking legs with desperation to win back my warm heart and happy thoughts. On the other side, we have my addict. She stands with squared shoulders and her head held high. Two large fists are lifted in front of her face, ready to fight for what she wants. My addict is desperate to destroy my conscience and turn everything to tar and cravings.

Which one will win?

Every second that passes, I find myself caring less and less.

My phone has been ringing off the hook since I left Mickey's. I don't bother to check because I know who they're all from. I'm sure majority of them are from my mother who's probably scoping the whole city looking for my head. Some are from Lip, probably wondering if I'm dead in a ditch somewhere. Picking up the phone means dealing with drama that's beyond my reach. The little white pills I took numbed my brain so much that I could barely comprehend how cold it was outside.

The winter breeze pierces my face, causing my nose and ears to turn red and feel numb. My fingers are icicles despite my many attempts to cram them in my hoodie pocket for warmth. I can feel the cold air brush against my jeans and down my spine. As I walk, I take note of the sky. All the splashes of color that sprinkle the sky like art. Different shades of pink, orange, and blue. The sun begins to set, reminding me that I've been gone for three hours.

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