'Twas a cloudy summer night. People have already sought their bread and are now retreating to a session at the nearby coffee shops. They have all come in groups, to talk, laugh, and share thoughts. There in the corner, on a table, alone, I sat with a hose in my hand and relentlessly, continuously dragged breaths of blueberry-flavored fume into my lungs, watching everyone around me in silence. There's also the lonely ones; some were in enjoyable solitude, some others were waiting to see other people. "I hate this, but something inside me enjoys this," I murmur to myself. Something tells me I'm not alone where I sat. I'm not even spiritually conscious. I blow into the hose to let out some of the smoke out of the valve, then stare into my reflection in the window before me as I smoke my heart out.
I walk back to my crib, with a heart full of remorse that I didn't stay any longer where I was. I microwave a plate of sausage, bring out a plate of green salad, and sit down before the TV to watch a Will Ferrell movie. I've long been into the comedy genre. I have no idea why, it just appeals to me, even in my worst days. It's probably much better than burning your brain on internet jokes that have no meaning, I wouldn't think anyone would laugh at a pointless joke, but people do. I proceed to finish my plates and right when I would least think of it, I feel the need to listen to some depressive music. "This music understands me," I stare blankly at the cover art as I whisper this. It took me hundreds of times to be able to hold my emotions in while listening to such music, and that's so many that now I'm used to this. It's normal now. Life is a dark realm, and this is its theme music. After grabbing my schizo pills, I retreat to my bed.
I wake up after 12 hours of brutally disturbing dreams, get dressed up and get down to the streets to wander emptily in the town with headphones in my ears. It's indifferent from where I live, merely, open air and supposedly colorful views.
It's quite irking the looks I get are when I'm around a certain place. I don't know what they're staring at, but they're very passionately exploring my looks when I'm not looking. I may not be looking, but I know once our eyes meet. It's like they haven't seen my kind before, even though we're the same species. I try to open a conversation just to kill the suspicion. "What's the time?" "It's 1:30." "Thanks a lot, sir." The constant staring immediately vanished, but dramatically intensified moments later. It's like they know me, or have seen me before. I have no memory of them. Couples out on dates, coworkers treating themselves to a nice hangout, and friends in general meeting up to discuss their summer vacation plans. I have no memory of going out on a date with someone or even having anything big discussed with me. I'm a side act to even my closest companions, judging from what they do with everyone else that sounds... special. I rest my back on a seat in wherever I am, and fall into a state of blankness as I play music into my earphones. While in my solitude, a beautiful girl comes to me and asks calmly, "are you alone?" I ask unexcitedly, "yeah, sure," and as expected she pulls the empty chair in front of me, thanks me, and drags the chair to where she wanted to sit. The table she wanted to sit to was unoccupied and void of seats. She, too, came alone. She sat, put headphones to her ears and ordered black coffee. I can't recall her interacting with anyone else there or answering any of the continuous phone calls she was getting. I continue listening to music. Suddenly I get a phone call from one of my old friends, congratulating me on "my latest published novel". I don't remember publishing anything recently. "That was great, Pete, I knew it was in you!" I keep that in, then very calmly say, "This is Michael." He laughingly says, "oh, sorry man, my bad. So hey, what's new with you, Mike?" I'm very close to hanging up the call at this point. "Look man, I'm in something important right now, can you call me later?" was all I could say, and he says "yeah, sure, see you around!" I haven't met him in 5 years.
I run to my home, hurl to my bedroom, close the windows and the door, and scream at the top of my lungs. I ventilate heavily and sit in the corner of my room, covering my eyes with my hands. Moments later, I feel the need to scream some more, but it was already dusk. I didn't want to wake the nappers up. With my energy receding, I retreated to my bed, and woke up to a heart attack... my nightmares couldn't take a rest. I was at a point where I need to sleep but don't want to. I was covered in sweat and my heartbeat was accelerating. I went to drink some water, then went to sit on the bed and think of why this is happening to me. Why is it all dreams of me brutally dying in the most horrific ways, at the hands of people I don't want to deal with? I felt the need to smoke heavily.
I retreated to the nearby coffee shop and ordered the heaviest flavor of hookah I could think of. Smoke in, smoke out, eyes red and twitching, and hands shaking. People kept looking, and one of them stood off his seat and took the hose out of my hand telling me that "I'm going to hurt myself." Everyone in the coffee shop volunteered to take me to a hospital. I silently told them to leave me alone and went back home.
I stood in the middle of my bedroom, containing inside of me everything bad that I feel, and stared into the blank wall. My limbs started to go numb and my head didn't stop twitching, and all of a sudden... the lights went off. I could hear disturbing, screeching noise in my head. And a few seconds later, everything went blank.