I walked down the damp streets of the ghost-town I was living in. A cigarette was in-between my fingers, smoking it carelessly as I walked. Music played in my ears, my sleeves were pulled over my fingers and each of my breaths were to be seen. A neighbor of ours was getting into his car, and I wanted to say; “Hello”.
But, I didn’t
“Mazzy Star” was the artist playing, I allowed myself to tune back into the distraction of her voice.
I remember how frustrated I was when I thought the vending machine in front of the Gas Station was broken; the entire point of the trip.
“I just want a damn soda.” I curse to myself.
On the walk back to my long-term boyfriends house, I begin to think of reasons of why it should be over.
My phone read; 4:22am. With a strong exhale, I began to feel the hurt again, but ignored the source of the feeling once more.
“How irresponsible of you to be with your emotions.” My subconscious tells me.
I already knew, I was just doubting my ability to fix it.
My thoughts lingered about him again, sleeping in his room above me.
I love him, I love him so much.
But, we were more of a ghost-town than the one we lived in.
All I was doing was trying to think the opposite, because it hurts less.