5
"The more I thought about it, the more I realized I wanted to fall inside of a black hole, because it was my mind, it was dark, it was dangerous, and empty, and a reminder that I was living in a world that felt so cold, but was warm to everyone but me. Or maybe I was just picturing fear, or water and fire fighting for dominance, and I was just existing, wishing I didn't. . ."
Calum
"I heard that you do drugs."
Pepto-Bismal hair, pasteurized buttermilk skin, colors, colors, a disaster I bumped into on the way to my own hell. "Word goes around pretty fast, doesn't it?" I didn't want to believe that I was a drug-addict, but it's the only thing I knew about myself, because I didn't want to learn the spare details. Looking in the mirror was bad enough. My skin was grey, so fucking grey.
"If you're up for it, I have some heroine in the back of my truck, and I've been looking for somebody who's brave enough to do it with me."
Heroine. Heroine. Eyelids. Color. Color. So many clouds of cotton grey, so many droplets of wine, so many thoughts -- I didn't take my antidepressants today. "That sounds great."
I didn't learn her name.
But she learned mine.
In the blink of an eye.
In the mist of a breath.
"What got you into drugs?" She confronted, peach-cheery lips biting down on her porcelain knuckles, bruising them with the marks of her pumpkin-purple teeth. "Death," I answered truthfully, feeling my breath return to a normal pace as I sniffed the substance, "you?"
"Expectations."
She looked like a mushroom cloud, evaporating into the unhinged world - like a harebrained shadow with contusion of stygian pebbles.
"You look funny."
"I feel funny, too," she chortled, putting her bare weight on the bonnet of her car, colliding oatmeal edges with cranberries.
"There were tinges of rainforests in her eyes, of blue whales and starry seas, of hurricanes made of sapphire and grey, of red-yellow lips and she was a blur, pixilated eyelashes, fire, she was the fever burning inside of my body that I didn't want to exist, but it did anyway. . ."
Clandestine habiliments torn from embrace, roaming eagles, shallow breathing, dizziness, darkness, closed eyelids. That's all I knew of.
-
"He's waking up," Daelyn spoke, inhaler in her hands as chestnut met hazel. She was crying. "Wake up, Calum. Mommy needs to talk to you."
"My fingers and chest felt anesthetic, stipulated, and everything was fuzzy, but I could still see aquamarine strings, pulling me back into the darkness, the one place I was afraid of, but went to, anyway. Because it didn't exist, or maybe I was in denial of that, too. . ."
Cheyenne promenaded towards me, a damp cloth in her hand, an azure cloth, eyes charcoal and full of fear. "How are you feeling?"
"My head hurts," I confessed, grabbing the cloth from her hands and planting it on top of my forehead like a flower. "What happened?"
Cheyenne bit her graham cracker lips, frosting her eyes coldly in my direction, goosebumps covering the extremity of her arms, shoulders slugged and tied to transparent borders. "You were caught doing heroine."
"That's it?" I asked, attempting to sit up, only to be pushed back down again by her cinderblock hands.
"No, there's more," Cheyenne sighed, "I think you should rest for the night and we'll talk in the morning before you go to school."
"Okay," I lazily smiled, mahogany curls swirling into my eyes like constellations, sending me into a dream of benediction, the only paradise I had ever known that wasn't a nightmare. A paradise of Red-yellow lips.
-
"Today, I'll be pairing you up in groups of four."
I managed to tune the teacher out like a bass, watching as animadversion filled the room, locks of paisley and aquatini, my lungs wadding with gelid air and disintegrated palm trees.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" I spat out, stabbing my table with the red pen in my hand, shaking, anger, betrayal, so much emotion needed to be let out. "Why the fuck are you here?"
"It was Michael, ringlets of ashes hanging below his SnapBack, alabaster skin, red-yellow lips. He was everywhere, and I didn't want him to be. I didn't want him to exist, or at least not exist around me, because then I'd feel like I'm dying. Or maybe that's just my demons eating me alive. . ."
"Michael, welcome. May I see your schedule?"
Please be incorrect.
Please get out of my life.
Please stop existing.
"Perfect. I'll have you sit by me on this stool, for now, since we're at capacity of desks at the moment." This is not what I fucking wanted. "We're also getting into groups at the moment, and everyone picked theirs. You're welcome to pick any group you like."
We made eye contact.
He really did exist.
But I didn't want him to.
"Can I be in that group?" He was pointing to my table, red-yellow lips growing curious, turning sapphire and grey. Michael was the hurricane I was trying to avoid.
So, I stood up and left.
Maybe it was to get away from my mind, or to smoke another cigarette and watch myself choke on air, or maybe it was Michael and his existence.
Maybe that's exactly what it was.
And I wanted nothing to do with him.
Or myself.
Because I was just waiting to be destroyed, like the disaster I am.
-
A/N;
So...the scene with the girl that had pink hair, they had sex. I don't know if you could tell or not but she kissed him bc everything looked funny. And Calum went through with it because he thought she was Michael. That's where the line "there were tinges of rainforests. ." comes in
Also, most of the lines in this story are part of a song I'm writing, so I'd really appreciate it if you guys don't steal it..thanks.