Lost Boy

1

The comedown is hitting hard, which sucks since I'm still at a friend's house and surrounded by high strangers. You should know that it's best to have the comedown when you're already in your bed, or at least in your own home. If you're still with people, they'll start to annoy you more with the minute. The others seem to still be in bliss, laughing their ass off because of god knows what. The comedown is when I realise how miserable my life really is. I'm with three other guys. I know their names, but not a lot more. I know the owner of this room is called Dave and that his parents are out of town for the weekend. It's the room of someone you'd expect to smoke a lot of grass. The best part about Dave's room is the thick black curtain, which keeps all the light out even during the brightest mornings.

I'm such a disappointment. I finished high school last year but never got a job or a place at a college. Comedown can feel like clarity, it brings light to what sucks the most about your life. In my case, that is everything.

I've not always been this big of a failure. Carla is to be blamed for all of this. She's my ex-girlfriend. She dumped me by getting into bed with my best friend.

We had been together for two years, she was the joy of my life. I've never felt truly happy after that day. And the worst of all is, I can't make myself hate her like I should.

I still love her.

I can't even explain it, she's got something, something I've never seen before in anyone else. The harsh truth is that I would've probably allowed her to run back in my arms if it weren't for the fact that she left me immediately after my unfortunate discovery.

That day I stopped caring and the drinking and using began.

All the feelings come back to me now,

I see her face right in front of me.

I feel her hair.

I smell her scent

I see her naked on top of Tyler. The tears are welling up in my eyes. I leave the room before it's too late. I manage to keep it together as I leave through the back door, they've probably not even noticed my departure. The fresh air does me well and I just start walking. Unfortunately, walking forces you to do one particular thing, thinking. My thoughts haunt me everywhere I go.

Perhaps I'll never feel anything ever again.

I keep walking, until I am completely alone, I've lost the buildings of the suburbs out of sight. Sometimes I wish I could get out of this city, or at least out of my mom's house. She's a sweetheart but I'm 19 years old, I've graduated, I should have my own life.

I still have some weed in my pocket, it helps me sleep at night. The good thing about smoking weed is that it stops the endless thinking, I need that right now. I act differently in a couple ways when I'm stoned. Apparently, I tap my foot, like, all the time.I thought it was a nervous ticket, but apparently it happens more often.. Another sign that I am high, but a less obvious one is the constant throwing back of my head as I giggle softly, like a child. I know this about myself, I just hope other people don't notice it. Some people retrieve their child-like innocence when they get high. It seems that I am one of those people.

I made it back to the front door of my house at the dawn of morning and walk inside. The hallway is dark, no one appears to be up. I check my appearance in the mirror to check how fucked up I look. My hair is all over the place and needs a good wash. My honey blonde roots are showing, I really need to dye those. I coloured my hair silver, it looks a lot cooler than my natural colour. Unfortunately you can't dye over the red freckles scattered across my nose. They don't match my vibe at all. It sucks, but there's not too much I can do about it.

'Where have you been all night?' Mom asks me as I am still staring into the mirror.

'Same old thing, you know.' I tell her. I sit down on the couch next to her.

'When are you finally going to stop dissapearing all night and make something of yourself?' I wasn't prepared for this. I have been dreading this moment for quite some weeks now. You could say that any moment would've been better than this one. Barely sober, running low on sleep, I find it hard to think.

'I don't know mom. Do you hate me or something.'

'Don't try to make me feel guilty. I don't want you out of the house, I just want you to do a little more than go out every night.'

'Fine, I'll get a job or something.'