Under the Influence ✔

1.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm the only one that drives down the interstate and imagines what it would be like to steer just a little bit to the right and crash through the guardrails, drive off the side of a cliff, or maybe hit a tree or two while going eighty miles per hour. Am I the only one that wants to know what it would be like to feel the sting of glass shattering from the windshield and cutting into your skin, blood trickling down your face and the copper taste hitting your lips. Would I scream? Would I try to escape and call for help or would I stay frozen in place?

I wonder if anyone would really even miss me, would the world be different in any way? My work would have to find someone to work the night shift, someone would have to clear out my apartment so that a new tenant can move in, and my mom and dad would have to pretend to be torn apart over the loss of their eldest daughter.

I don't think much would change. I have no real significance in this world. I don't think any of my friends would be too terribly distraught over it, it's not as if there's anyone I talk to on a regular basis anyway.

I push down on the accelerator, watching as the speedometer hits one hundred and check my mirrors for cops, smiling to myself when I see that I'm the only car on the road at this hour. I turn up my radio and drive the familiar roads way too fast, sometimes swerving between the lines, unable to hear anything but the music vibrating throughout the entire car. I scream along with the words and almost miss my exit, decreasing my speed as I take the sharp turn on the ramp and lowering the volume once I hit city limits.

One of my favorite things in this world is the way the street looks at night when all the lights are on and there are no cars or people around. All the parking lots are empty, there's no lines at the drive thrus, and no one is waiting at the crosswalks. It's calming, yet sad at the same time. It's as if everyone else in the world has somewhere to be right now, and here you are - in a place where no one else is, because you have no where you belong.

I drive the short distance to my apartment complex and park in the empty spot directly in front of my apartment. I shut off the engine and sit for a moment, staring at the windows with curtains that hide the empty and lonely place I call home. I sit there in the dark long enough for my car to cut off, the faint sound of my music being cut abruptly and as I sit there in the silence, I try to remember when my life became like this.

I've always felt like I don't belong, even when I was younger. I had friends and was part of sports teams, but there was always this nagging feeling in my mind that I just didn't fit in like everyone else did.

Once I graduated, I packed up and moved an hour from the town that I grew up in, never looking back. I very rarely go back to the rural town, only on holidays and special occasions - like my little sister's high school graduation last week.

Opening my car door, I pull the keys out of the ignition and grab my purse. When my Vans hit the pavement, the dread of going into this empty apartment and sitting alone with no one to talk to hits me heavily.

I miss Nolan. I hate that I miss Nolan.

It's been six months and I'm still not used to coming home and him not being on my couch playing his Xbox. Six months ago when I would come home this late, he would have food waiting for me and we'd binge watch Netflix until we were too tired to keep our eyes open any longer.

Sometimes I have to stop myself from pulling out my phone and texting him, I have to stop myself from telling him I was wrong and asking him to come back. I have to remind myself that letting Nolan go was the right thing to do. I could never make him happy, not truly happy, not in the way he deserves.

How can I make Nolan happy when I'm not even happy myself? Don't they say that you can't love someone until you love yourself? Well, I don't. In fact, I hate myself more than anyone else possibly could.

I'm selfish. I'm stubborn. I'm chaotic. I'm a hand full.

I'm cold. I'm a flight risk. I'm an adrenaline junkie.

No one should have to deal with that, especially not someone as good and kind as Nolan. He said he loved me, and no one should ever have to carry that burden - so I let him go.

I could never love him in return, I have so much emotional baggage and damage that I can never love another person. Breaking things off with Nolan was the right thing to do.

I just have to keep telling myself that.

It's not even that I miss Nolan, sure there are things I miss about him specifically, but I mostly just miss having another person around. I miss having someone there to distract me from the dark turns and dives my mind takes when I'm alone.

Maybe I should get a dog? Or a cat, I hear they basically take care of themselves.

Once I'm inside, I toss my things on the small table in the entryway and head straight to my bathroom. I shed my work clothes, happy to be rid of the khakis and ugly polo for the next few days. I scrub the make up from my face and brush my teeth before gathering my long blonde hair into a ponytail and pulling on an over sized t shirt. I take a look at myself in the mirror over my sink and barely recognize the person staring back at me.

It's not that I don't recognize my reflection because it's not who I really am - no, it's not that played out cliché. It's actually the opposite, it's because I spend so much time pretending to be someone else and looking a different way, that I don't recognize the true tragedy that is Luna Hayes.

Giving myself a disgusted look, I turn and head towards my bed, grab the almost empty pill bottle from the drawer of my nightstand, pop the top and pour out two of the white tablets in my palm.

I don't know when this became a habit either. It's like I spend all day going through the motions and drowning in the thoughts that invade my mind, just waiting for the moment I can swallow these tiny objects and fall into a deep sleep - not to be bothered with reality until my alarm wakes me the next day and I repeat it all over again.

I fall back onto my bed and stare up at the ceiling until my eyelids become heavy and my mind finally shuts off. This is my favorite part of the day, this is what I look forward to every day and night.

The only problem is that it's taking longer and longer for the drugs to kick in and I know that if I tried, I could fight off the drowsiness because it's not as strong as it was months ago. I used to skip a few days in between doses so that I wouldn't build up a tolerance, but I gave that up quickly and before I knew it, I was doubling doses instead of skipping - tolerance be damned.