I stick my hands into the pockets of my trusty old black coat, trying to keep my fingers warm -- a futile attempt in this weather, but I'm nothing if not pig-headed. The neon lights from all the stores and businesses gleam in the near-darkness of the pre-dawn early spring. It's not the biggest city in the world, but it's big enough to get lost in. Or at least lie to yourself that you can hide from your problems by just walking away.
Few early risers walk past me, casting glances at me. I can feel their judging eyes on me. What's that freak doing here? Godless sinner! I can almost hear their condemning thoughts. An older woman walks by, looks at me, and scoffs. The double-venus pendant weighs heavily on my neck and it's almost like my pride-flag eyeshadow burns my eyelids. Acceptance my ass.
It would be better if my girlfriend was beside me. Oh, excuse me, EX-girlfriend, as of few hours ago. I don't blame her, though. Who would want to be with a loser and freak like me? The only thing I can do, is to lie and run away from my problems. That's what I've done my whole life.
I can feel her accusing and sad eyes still burning holes into my soul. I hurt her, that's what I do. I didn't explain, and yet again I did what I do best: I ran. I didn't even give her the explanation she deserved. I just turned and run, tears burning my eyes like drops of searing magma. I silently thank some higher power, that it's not freezing anymore. My cheeks would be thrice frozen over from the amount of tears that keep running past them.
I don't know where I am. I don't recognize the neighborhood. Not that I care that much. The wind picks up and bites my bare ankles. I curse my decision to only put on a cute skirt, and not proper pants. Not that I was planning on getting dumped, but with me, that was always going to be the thing at some point. Sooner or later. I wipe the tears from my eyes, but it doesn't matter. New ones fall as soon as the old ones are wiped out.
Half an hour later, my legs give up. I have trouble breathing, and I have to admit that I can't go further. I lean my back against a wall and slump down to the ground. I bury my face in my hands in a vain attempt at hiding my crying from the outside world, but when I'm shaking this much, it doesn't really help.
It's just too much. Everything is too much. Jenny dumping me today was just the icing on the cake that has kept growing since I was born. I draw a deep breath and fervently wish that I was never born. The world would be a better place for everyone if I hadn't been born. Maybe my mother and father would have grown up to be decent people without me. They did treat my brothers and my sister differently than me, so I knew it was possible.
What if my childhood wasn't filled with gaslighting and narcissist abuse? I shrug. Doesn't really matter, my childhood didn't have anything to do with healthcare screwing up my life in a very final way a couple of years back. Me being resistant to my life-saving meds didn't really help anything.
I wish I could cease to exist. It would just be better for everyone. Jenny deserved so much more than a broken husk of a girlfriend. My parents deserved more than whatever I am. The society deserves a functioning member. And I couldn't do anything right. Not even end my own life. I glance at my wrists, and the healing scars give me a stark reminder that I'm not as strong as I thought I was. If only I could have had the strength to push more.
After a few minutes, I decided it's not cold enough to be able to freeze do death and I get up. Maybe there's a bar open somewhere so I can at least try and forget everything? I let my eyes scan the surroundings and they spot a small neon sign with a cocktail glass and "24 h" above a nondescript door. I sigh and walk there.
Immediately, my senses are assaulted by the smell of a collection of new and old alcohol, blaring music battering my ears, and a dim ambient lighting with a couple of strobes here and there that do a much better job of inducing brain-splitting pain than my migraines ever could. Still, I make my way to the bar.
The bartender is a decently pretty girl. In another world, I would ask her out. In a world where I wasn't a total failure, that is. Bartenders definitely don't deserve something like this. I quietly ask her for a strong drink. She lifts an eyebrow at me, and I just raise my left hand and wiggle my ring finger. The impression from the ring that I wore for two years is still there. It's just been a few hours since I tossed the ring somewhere.
She nods her head knowingly and flashes me a sad little smile while pouring me a drink. I silently hope this establishment isn't particularly strict with the amount of drinks they serve. My plan is to drink enough that IF I get up tomorrow, the only thing I can think of is pain. I would welcome any sort of distraction right now and pain sounds like the perfect one.
She gives me the drink and I hurl it down my throat in one gulp, and point at the mug and ask for a second one. The drink burns my throat as it goes down, but I welcome the feeling. She lifts her eyebrow at me again, then shakes her head almost imperceptibly, but she pours me another one. Almost as soon as she hands it to me, I gulp it down in one go. Again.
"Easy there, girl, slow down or you'll kill yourself," the bartender says, but I don't really listen.
That's the plan, I mutter under my breath, not really sure if she heard or not, but also not caring if she did. As I point to my glass again, she reluctantly pours me a third one, but then takes the bottle away, and goes to serve another customer. I make my way to the dance floor, or what seems to substitute as that. It's just a corner of the main room that has a couple more lights than usual and an old loudspeaker facing it.
The alcohol helps me relax a little, and in a few minutes I'm dancing. I don't know the songs, nor do I actually know how to dance, but I don't care. Anything to get my mind off of all of this. A man comes close and asks something that I don't hear. I point to my pendant and he makes a disgusted face and steps away. Predictable, but it makes things easier. At least he got the hint sooner than most of them.
A couple of other girls join the dance floor and I momentarily forget about the world and just dance the night away. One of them offers me a drink, and I don't hesitate to take the offer. A few minutes later, I get another. And then another. An hour later -- or what I guess is an hour, I have absolutely no clue at this point -- I've lost count of how many drinks I've downed. But, it helps. I can't remember why I'm here anymore. I'm just dancing, and some people are dancing with me.
I don't even notice, but I'm drinking again, and a little bell goes off in my head, but I drown it with the throat-burning liquid that makes my life easier. If only I could always feel like this. If only I could always just ... dance, and not care about anything else.
Suddenly, I feel very ill. My head spins. Or is it the world? I don't know. Everything spins. My head burns, as does my stomach. A smell of vomit enters my nose, but I'm not sure if it's mine or someone else's. Anyway, it makes me feel even worse, and I feel myself retching. Someone touches my hand, but I try to push it away. Then everything goes black and I wish I would never wake up again.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvMtWlsyqKa
