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She's somewhere out there, and she needs fucking help.
The moment I was about to reach her, touch her, open my mouth and speak to her, I woke up, and I haven't been able to go back to sleep. So out here I sit on our condo deck, watching the nightlife that never tires. Wishing my brain would turn off but knowing it never will.
I came out here to get some writing done, but a bump of coke later and I can barely see straight. My anxiety is at an all-time high. Thoughts of Luna are swirling in my mind and making even sitting here fucking painful.
I fucking love her. After all these years, I love her so damn much and I can't do a thing about it. Now after this dream, I'm thinking the worst. I want to go back to sleep and start where I left off. Stay in my dream forever if I have to. I'll do anything I can to talk to her, just make sure she's okay.
But I don't have that ability, and because of that, I'm fucking wrecked.
Torn into shreds, inside and out.
My bare torso burns even when I feel like ice is in my heart. The muscles twitch and roll with each movement of my body. I push my finger into the tip of my pen, wanting it to penetrate my skin, just for the fact that it'll distract me from the feeling I feel so deeply inside of me.
The smooth pen glides across my finger. The lined paper in front of me is filled with nothing but scribbles about hate and heartbreak. It's all fake, though. It’s a fucking rouse.
I want to hate Luna for what she's done to me, but if anything, I love her more. I can't hate someone who wants to better themselves. Mostly her, I could never hate her. But if she wants to go and do what she thinks is right, what am I going to do, hold her back? That'll only have her resent me in the end. I had to let her go, even if it meant leaving me alone and empty.
I'll stay alone for the rest of my life, waiting for her.
I glance over my shoulder and straight into my bedroom, seeing Brandy's form underneath my sheets.
She follows me, and it's just about time to cut her off. I can't deal with her anymore. She's falling for me. I can see it in her eyes, and I'm not even in the same dimension of being able to give her something back. I couldn't even give her a mindless relationship, even though she'd already probably say we're dating.
We're not. We're really fucking not. I let her suck my dick because she gives me a bag of coke every day.
"Baby, what're you doing out here?" The raspy voice of Brandy rings into the night. I don't turn around, don't give her my grimacing face.
"No. Not right now," I grumble, half to myself and half to Brandy.
The door slides open, the screen rolling and making the floor beneath my feet vibrate. I close my eyes, knowing she's going to touch me when it's the last thing I want right now.
Within a second, her long, thin fingers wrap around my shoulder, giving me a gentle squeeze around my collarbone. "Trying to write some music?"
I lean forward, sliding out of her hold. I put my elbows on my knees, pressing my face into my palms and gripping the front of my hair. I pull, wanting to pull until I rip out every last strand.
I just want to be alone.
But that's a lie, too.
I don't want to be alone. I only want her.
"Trying.I just want to be alone right now." I haven't looked at her yet. Not once. I can feel her eyes boring into the back of my head. She wants me to look at her. She wants the affection I'm not able to give her.
"Are you sure? Maybe I can help?" Her finger threads into the back of my hair, and I turn around, my head whipping toward hers.
"Brandy, I want to be alone right now. Go back to bed." Her face falls, her eyes wanting so badly to fill with tears, but she's tougher than that. She grew up around men. She can hold her own.
She's nothing like Luna. Luna would have broken down already, fallen to her knees with emotion. She's always been emotional, wearing her heart on her sleeve.
They're black and white. Night and day.
Maybe that's why I’ve perused her, if you could call it that. She came on to me, and my shattered soul didn't know anything but to let her do whatever it is she wanted.
I've been a zombie, a shell of a human throughout our entire relationship, and if this is what she likes, well, then I kind of feel bad for the girl.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to snap. I'm just not in the mood." I'm not a total fucking asshole, but I wish she would take the fucking hint.
With a nod, she slinks back inside, shutting the door behind her. I drop my notebook and pen to the ground, listening as the pen rolls and falls off the edge of the patio.
