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.


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