A Story for Another Day

I’m on another level now. I’m on another level. I don’t care if anyone cares about my writing or sees it. I can be so buried that it doesn’t matter. I just had a conversation with my brother that clarified my lifestyle. I’m listening to Lofi beats. I want to kill myself.

It sounds bad. My brother Emmett met me at the corner, and we scored some smack from a local drug dealer who goes by the name of Blondie. She’s pretty great. She’s really great actually. Has a smacking body. But, I don’t care about that. I have a girlfriend. She looks like a girl though. She has this pretty red hair that was dyed. She used to have blonde hair or brunette, I can’t remember.

But, I met her when she had red hair. And, she teaches this Code academy that teaches kids to code, not kids really, just young adults or adults. God, my memory’s shoddy.

I’m afraid of being not interesting, but that’s my worst fear.

Blondie smiled as she gave us the smack and said ‘This would be interesting.’

I like that. Because I’m a lazy motherf*cker, I can’t tell good smack from smack.

That’s my problem.

I taste the smack. It’s interesting. And, it gives me a head rush.

I look at Emmett — Emmett’s my brother, if I didn’t already say that. It’s pretty good stuff. I can tell by his face.

I look at drug dealer, Blondie. And, I get the sniffles. The sniffles basically means you’re really enjoying the smack.

I get another head rush, and my head feels all numb and stuff, like the insides are numb, like nothing can hurt you.

____

I’m clear. I can walk on the sidewalk straight. I want to talk to the first person that numbs my being. I talk to this stranger.

“Hey how’re you doing?”

“Good.” He looks at me weirdly.

I want to touch his umbrella.

The umbrella looks satin.

“Nice umbrella you got there. Can I touch it?”

“No,” he says.

My brother Emmet breaks us up before something happens.

I love this guy. I don’t want to cast doubt in his head. So, I leave.

____

It’s so painful sometimes, leaving. Like, leaving a girlfriend’s house, or leaving a place to catch a train.

It’s painful leaving because sometimes if you leave, you’ll never come back.

Bum bum bum bum bum my heart beats as we cross the street.

I hate being alone.

I’ll never get it. I’ll be alone sometimes. But, when my brother’s here, I always feel better.

_____

I always sleep on the couch next to him before he goes to sleep. He wakes me up before he goes to bed.

_____

Emmett says, “Hey, let’s go to the bar.”
I say, “Let’s do it.”

We walk in. Crowd of people. Massive. We start talking to people. My only visceral experience was in that bar. That’s not true though. I’ve had lots of visceral experiences. I took a lot of drugs.

People talk to me. I talk to them.

It’s not that interesting. But, funny is my nose was running the whole time. I wonder if they noticed. They didn’t notice. Otherwise, they would’ve said something.

I like doing pull-ups. It’s like, once you get on the bar, you’re scared and worried that you can’t do another. But, then you do another. You get a rep.

I’m tired. Worried my ex — won’t like my writing. But, that’s for another story.