when i was younger i never had the enjoyment of hearing the ice cream truck go down my street.
instead i heard gunshots or police sirens.
i had a friend in elementary school (or some shit) that would tell me about her family and the ice cream truck.
as i grew older i realized the gunshots were my ice cream truck. it would be the best i would ever get.
i didn't want the fucking ice cream anymore.
i look around the densely packed party, not really feeling my body, but seeing a multitude of colors and melting people. my vision lags and the colors blend.
i missed this.
fuck being sober.
i'm looking for something.
fuck it.
instead i walk around and watch the people melt and swirl into colors, become the colors, they're the core of the color.
loud music i can feel but not really hear, i can feel the fucking music. the bass thumping to the beat of my heart.
holy shit i have superpower or something.
i walk around walk and walk, none of the color people caring. my body a whisper, dancing with the wind as i walk outside.
am i really walking?
i don't care for the color people, never have. i have my own people. not random color people.
"color people?"
i shake my head slightly. i try to look around, my head heavy and my vision like a blurry zoom.
did i hear that?
i'm silly on this shit.
where are the color people?
where the fuck am i?
fuck i don't know and i don't care.
and then everything went very very dark.
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love, until it disappears
قصص عامةelle klein: a 17 year old struggling-but recovering- drug addict, living with her half brother, trying to pick herself up and navigate through the darkness. she's lost trying to find her way through a mess of drugs, parties, ex-boyfriends, new boyfr...
