hopecartel - Tumblr blog

[hopecartel]

and sometimes I’ll even let myself feel bad, like I’m so low I can’t even be there for anyone.

But then a small glimmer of hope will shine through and I remember, right now all I can do is be here for myself. That feels like enough and there are so many ways I wish I would have done it sooner.

[hopecartel]

“i was really drunk,”

and i know now that doesn’t justify it. 

when he walks in I’m glaring and this feels like forever ago. I’m so pissed at him. He’s sneaking in and making it a thing. I sit. I watch.

Then when he comes over I’m not that nice, I’m like- you fucking bailed on me. You offered to drive for the first time in months and then you fucking bailed. 

but when I really look at you there’s something different in your face. 

you buy me a shot, and finally we’re leaving. Jordan keeps offering, insisting, on giving me a ride. I tell him, he owes me this. and I mean it, you do. 

I don’t remember much about leaving. I tell my kind of (but not) boyfriend goodbye, and we get in your car. at my house, I ask if you want to come in. I couldn’t tell you why this even crosses my mind- it hasn’t when you drove me home a thousand times before. 

you agree, and we end up putting on goosebumps. you lay on the bed. is. we’re cuddling and i’m tickling your back, and then you’re giving me a handy. we don’t kiss, but you have me on my back on the edge of my bed. 

you’re giving me head.

i keep looking at you and thinking about how long i've been waiting for this to happen. i’m holding your hands- i’m wanting to have sex with you more than i’ve ever wanted anything. 

then you tell me about your sadness and i just lay there with you. i tickle your back. i kiss you on top of the head. i love you.

when you leave you send me a thank you. i’m melted and helpless all over again.

the next day we end up at coffee, and my poor sweet crush is bringing last night up. i can’t help but make a point about just how drunk i was. i say, man that whiskey shot got me really fucked up. 

and this kid, he has driven me home drunk and stayed with me quite a bit. he knows me drunk, and he apparently feels confident in his ability to gaugethat. 

“Really? I feel bad, I usually can tell how drunk you are, truly, and i didn’t think you were that drunk. i feel like i took advantage of you.” then he says how we made out when i was leaving. 

i wonder, were you watching this? i know you had to see it. did that motivate you? are you testing me, what the fuck is this.

i flash back to the first night you fingered me, his text tone going off asking what i was doing, as i ripped my pants taking them off with you in my bed. 

then i flashback to him in the kitchen, “i would never take advantage of you. him, on the other hand-” and he’s talking about you. 

i get sick to my stomach about this.

i’m smiling nervously, i have to get this the fuck out of my head. i ask, did we? i tell him i don’t remember. this is the truth, even the ride home was blurry. everything until laying next to you and craving your touch. then everything got crystal clear, down to grabbing the condom and practically begging. 

so instead of thinking about this any longer, i grab his hand and ask if he wants to go smoke. 

i wonder if he has any idea.

i’m sorry jordan.

[hopecartel]

if i had to be honest

i would tell you, listen man, i sure love ya but i can't hold on anymore. i'm killing myself. i'm in pain. it feels like it did, all over again. but darker. lonelier. more solidified and permanent. i would say, i don't think you realize what you mean to me, not the slightest clue. i really needed the light you brought into my life. not just in the beginning, but every day since. i needed your lifeline but even more i needed your kindness. i needed the way you appreciated me. i needed you calling me your bff, those five dollar tuesdays, hikes, tennis. i wish i could make you feel how dark it felt before. i would let know you, maybe you're right. about needing to be used. maybe i couldn't function in a healthy relationship. i wouldn't know what to do with someone who loved me. who appreciated me, liked me for who i was. who i am. and i let you be that person who treated me shitty. and you let that happen, too. how did it end up that you made me feel shittier than anyone had before.

[hopecartel]

other times

it's easier to write hypothetical reactions to what could happen. like flashing to the future and reacting to decisions you're considering making. -maybe there's a world where this is it. we ghost and don't hear from each other. -maybe there's a world where a couple weeks go by and shit hits you, you wake up. and i can't even explain it to the kid. he's sitting across from me, his eyes always look so hungry. i try to tell him what happened but i can't think of where to begin. this is my chance to set it straight. it started after that birthday party, man. everything fucking changed but it took a couple weeks to hit me. i realized how distant we were now and i missed you so much. but having you there didn't curb that, it just made me miss who you were more. it was like having a part of my life missing. more than i was hurt by you, i was mad at myself forgetting so attached to you. i knew this was coming and i shouldn't have let it hit so hard. the you i thought i knew so well, the kid i spent the last two years being best friends with. i looked at you one day and i didn't even recognize you. i didn't even recognize myself. and i put it into perspective by doing a play by play from last year. you were so attentive and so there, i always knew you had my back and that's what gave me thick skin towards you. i knew at the end of the day you were my best friend no matter what. and now this kid in front of me, he wasn't there for me like that anymore. i felt like a burden, a hassle for him. he joked about pawning me off, being done with me.

[hopecartel]

and it still drives my crazy

you know me better than anybody, you would be the only one. at my funeral you would see through everybody's bullshit. you would know the truth. why does that drive me crazy? maybe because it's the spit in the face of showing someone your world and then they walk away. you're being good to someone and getting no where. you're someone changing your life and then leaving. you're exactly what you said you were. only you aren't. you aren't there like you said you'd be. you aren't my best friend anymore. and i've lost things before, i know i'll be okay. i'll get through it like i "always have." maybe my weight wasn't a fair thing to put on you. my secrets became your secrets but i kept wanting to tell you more. and i loved hearing your more.

[hopecartel]

my own reasons

i'm trying to figure out where it all changed, when did i get become so alone. and it's hard to explain because i get stuck in thinking i'm over reacting. but when i look back at all the people who have let me down, or disappointed me, you always hurt the worse. now, there were a lot of times i could name that things you said crushed me. said, did, implied. ways you made me feel like i was nothing to you. and while i'm going over that, i might as well start at the beginning. let me tell you everything. as i know you remember, i was quite a different person when we first met. i was bruised and broken and my hands were the only ones bleeding from trying to piece myself back together. no one was there for me, and we were all at fault for that. but you came into my life and showed me that someone could give a shit, someone could care enough to take time out of their lives to help me work on mine. and we did. we played tennis, we ran, we drove, we hiked, we saw movies together. there was a year we were inseparable, the only time i didn't see you was on sundays. and i would have accepted that it was time to let go of that attachment. you called our friendship "intimate," (direct quote from you, my dear friend.) you compared us to having those avatar braids, intertwining them- we would pick up on each other. i could tell you about my creepy shit. my nightmares, my greatest fears. i told you everything. and you always listened, you'd genuinely care. and your family, too. never get me wrong about one thing- i could never thank you enough for the difference you made in my shit life. all of you, it meant the world to me. and i should have seen the signs. i shouldn't have been so blind sighted by this. it started in wendover when i was real with you. for me it did, anyways. when we got back my mom got so sick, and you took a step back. you quit being there. i really needed you, the most. i was so lost. and you were no where to be found. but i got through it and so did we. we even talked about, i kept saying i passed your test with flying colors. but i never asked you to test me, i asked you to be my friend. then sam's birthday happened. i know i have gone over with you at least one thousand times and there's nothing i can elaborate more on to make you understand why i was hurt. so i'll just say it again- you were my best friend. the best person i ever knew, actually. and you lied to me. you lied and put me in a situation i hated, and i still wonder if i ever forgave you for that. i'll add that to my list of shit to figure out. how about that? so you remember, i gave you a silent treatment for five days until that night. the night that changed everything for me. but you probably remember that too. if you don't i have officially failed at everything. and you kept telling me how much you love me, you said i remind you of your old friends. i can't tell you in a million years how much that night meant to me, how much i needed to hear that. then lines got crossed, i'm over that part. but when i came back everything was different and suddenly we weren't that close. i didn't see you a lot. i was embarrassed, i felt so dumb that i thought what happened could mean something to you. i knew you were drunk. shit happens when people are drunk, but never before; and never with you. and your friends were so fake, but so were you around them. another step back. you thought i was jealous, and maybe looking back i was, because you had spit in my face about our friendship and then turned into a different kid, chris, all in a matter of weeks. i would say i was missing you more than anything but doesnt that just become my theme? then always listening to how unhappy you were with her, constant fighting and you always wondering how you were going to break up wit her. for over a year that's all i heard, until double dates were convenient. until all your friends had girlfriends. and then i quit seeing you, too. and you know, that did suck. i felt back shelved as your friend, traded in. but no one knew the real you. i still felt lucky to at least know who you were. are? and when my aunt died, another step back- i quit seeing you. and halloween, the party you said you'd drive to until thirty minutes before you were supposed to pick me up. i felt like fucking baggage to you man. i could never put into perspective how shitty most people in my life took me until i met you. and isaac, and julie, sam too. to be fair. of course i was crushed when you bailed on me after my months of DD'ing. so i went to the stupid party and i did my best to be okay. i tried to pretend my step brother didn't relapse that day, that my home life didn't feel like it was crumbling. and your girlfriend i still cant stand- telling me you offered to dd for her. after everything. the part that gets me mad was your consistent shit talking. yet you let me down and there you are for her. that wasn't super nice. then the days (week?) after that, you saying you were too busy for anything. finally getting you to agree to hang out, and then you cancelling after i waited for two hours. these things were all just you spitting in my face and i chose to put it aside for some stupid fucking reason. i knew you were going through a lot. i knew it was always my job to be there for you if you ever needed me. but i was getting dragged through fucking mud- dd'ing for you on mondays when you got sucked into karaoking, thinking we're going to hang out when you just need a ride with shine to ken's. these things all hurt and i never told you that. i told myself it was me returning your favor- your life saving favor that i will forever owe you for. or will i?

[hopecartel]

dreamer

i’m trying to piece it all together because at some point i got lost. i started having dreams on my antibiotics this is mid february. i remember one, sitting in a super old school. the hallways are brick and everything is ancient seeming. we’re sitting kitty corner, carlos and i, and there’s a substitute teacher. i’m focusing down so hard i can’t pay attention she asks if i’m okay, she says, “your eyes don’t look good, do you need to go home?” we walk out on break and carlos puts his arm around my waist, he goes, “you need to be okay because i need you.” i don’t say anything but we keep walking for a while i hold his hand. he says, “i’m not trying to make out with you, i’m trying to bang you.” and we laugh so hard looking at each other but i keep holding his hand and he keeps his arm around me.

then another, where i’m alone in an old school but this one seems newer than that one. i’m in an open area, the commons maybe, and there are bleachers where a bunch of people are standing and singing. i think i see derrick and brecken but i know he won’t talk to me in front of his friends. it feels like middle school i have such a heavy sadness i don’t know anyone else so i start up the stairs, which have gaps in between each step. i’m carrying a whole bunch of binders, and then i lose my grip and my papers go flying between the steps and down onto the people. the bleacher knocks over because of this, and a girl is crushed to death. when i go down the stairs i’m so mortified at what i just did i keep thinking, i didn’t mean for that to happen. i wake up.

i have one where dodge and i are at the walmart, wandering and feeling lost. tony is living there, where the stationary department is there are nice glass doors that open into his apartment. there are two beds and a small kitchen i ask if we can stay the night, i’m anxious.

then nights later, i’m staying at hotel with coworkers i’m so drunk i lose my room key i’m talking to joey, only he’s the chubby kid from 13 going on 30. i find my key on a book case i’m trying to piece together the night before. kimberly is there too, she’s herself. i have two dreams about staying at hotels.

i have another one where i’m going to be late for work, mine and derrick’s cars have both broken down. we decide we’re take bikes to work. we’re coming from the top of sego lilly or something, way more uphill than where we live. we get a couple of blocks away and suddenly bump into seth, he says he can take us to work. but seth is taking the bus and there’s a huge crowd to get on. it’s so busy i’m nauseous and i keep looking at the clock, we’re still going to be late. we have to stop by seth’s and derrick keeps complaining about how messy it is. we get back on a shuttle, it’s futuristic- when i look out the windows there are huge sky scrapers on fire, everything is burning

then another one where i’m at carlos’ house a few nights later, i’m sitting at the island talking to his parents. his mom looks so young. carlos goes downstairs, i don’t see him most of the dream he’s talking to me from downstairs, popping his head around the stairs when i walk toward the stair case and look around i realize i don’t even know this house where the living room is, there’s a hallway where at the end there are two staircases going both ways. on the other side towards the bedrooms, there’s a half stair case going down. i’m saying, i’ve never even used these stair cases. even the split entry from the front door looks so foreign. i think, this doesn’t make any sense i’ve been here a thousand times everything is red and gold.

it’s mid march now. a couple of nights ago as i was falling asleep, carlos standing in front of me. we’re talking about something and he says, “may it help you out with whatever just appeared.” a darkness sets in, i wake up but it doesn’t feel like i ever fell asleep.

a couple of nights ago, there are these check points and the whole town is empty. it feels post apocalyptic and artificial while i’m in the car i’m apparently exempt, these dead people are running across the road and they scatter as soon as my headlight hits them i’m worried for some reason about hitting one. they keep running and hiding. i get to a house and i keep thinking, “how can i clear it out?” i am in the garage, trying to get in, there’s a window next to the door but they’ve taken the house over and they’re pouring out. when i turn around to run back out the garage is filled with them. i wonder how they got into the house in the first place. i think, “it’s filled with them.” i wake up.

i’m staying at these peoples house, and they’re ugly. like fucking monster in the night ugly, the dad is giant and he’s got yellow skin with black birth marks that remind me of burns. the mom is old and she’s pregnant, she has a witchy nose and wirey hair. they’re calling it a “bacon baby” it feels like we’re in a cottage. we’re all sleeping in the same bed. then they say their kids are awake, and there’s a line of three kids to the bathroom i tell them how crazy parenthood is when you have to worry about someone that much, i say, i didn’t hear them moving around at all. i wake up.

4/2/17 wendover I'm with two other people we're almost in a huddle. I'm hiding something, protecting it. Someone walks up behind me, wraps the right arm around my stomach and stabs me on my left side. I wake up.

[hopecartel]

perks of being a wall flower

page one hundred and forty four "so, i decided to find another place to go and figure out why people go there. Unfortunately, there aren't a lot of places like that. i don't know how much longer i can keep going without a friend. i used to be able to do it very easily but that was before i knew what having a friend was like. it's much easier to not know things sometimes. and to have french fries with your mom be enough."

[hopecartel]

these are our lives

we've got plans to hang out after work. i get off early, and get a pizza from our little caesars. when i call him, his phone is dead. usually i say fuck it, and head home. but i get a sick feeling in my stomach that i need to do something. i need to get ahold of him, i know something's wrong. so i find an old number for nate, who's never able to keep a number. but i give it a try and it works. he goes, "kyle's a little drunk right now." i get fucking pissed. it's a wednesday. then he says i should just come get him because he's being a little belligerent nate tells kyle that i need to talk to him, i hear kyle yell, fuck you bitch and for some reason something goes off inside me. i get so fucking mad i say, well nate looks like he's your problem but nate is begging, he's making me worried he tells me they're at his neig"hbors house, i think it's where adriana lived i think it's where lizzy bought her first pipe when we started smoking spice. when i get there some girl who's probably only twenty five opens the door. she's wearing a zip up hoodie and pajama pants. i wonder what the fuck i'm walking into. "you can come around in here fool." and i hate these kinds of people. kyle, i hate your people. when i walk into the house i want to puke, it smells like weed, rubbing alcohol, and cleaning chemicals. there are people sitting on the couches, they all looked drugged out. they look so fucking high i'm almost scared to be here. there are everclear bottles on a cheap coffee table, next to a bong and a smaller pipe. there are small baggies of pills. behind me i see a guinea pig, in a small cage i think, wow what a classy hang out then i almost cry when i see kyle. he's laying face down on the ground, the carpet is cheap, dirty, and burned in several places i struggle to get him up. i struggle to keep my cool and i'm trying to talk to nate to figure out what kyle's on. he finally gets up but he can't put on his shoes. he can't tell his left from his right. everyone is fucking watching me he leans on me to walk out, and he keeps spitting on their carpet i lose my shit here, i go, "what the fuck is wrong with you" and i'm trying to apologize but it's like i'm talking to brick walls these people so fucking high i don't even know where they are i'm disgusted no matter how i discuss it. and when we get outside he keeps trying to hug me. i get him home, he's sitting on his bed and all i can do is yell. my hoodie and folder in my hand, i tell him, "this is all i want from you." i try to leave. he's trying to lay down, he's saying, "baby i love you." he keeps repeating it but it keeps getting louder i sit down on the bed next to him. his eyes are rolling to the back of his head it's torturing me to sit here and watch this. i wonder what he could be on. for some reason i force myself to sit here and watch it. i feel like i somehow deserve it. he can't talk clearly and his facial expression keeps changing his breathing is irregular. when i get up he looks like he's going to cry. i put blankets on him so i know he's warm i put blankets on him because i'd hate myself if i didn't. when i go to leave he confesses that he took mushrooms. "i'm tripping out so bad," he sounds so scared. he tells me i need to save him. i stand there with my hand on the door and listen for a few minutes eventually he quits murmuring, his slurring stops and his eyes are mostly closed. i turn the light off and before i shut the door i choke out, "bye kyle." when i get into my car i sit in his driveway for a few minutes in silence. i want to cry but it feels like i forgot how to. i eventually start my car and go home. nate calls, he asks if kyle's safe. he's saying he drank too much liquor. he says he's got to go. it hits me how low my pride is right now, walking into what i reflect felt like a meth house, dragging your drunk booming boyfriend off the floor. i think, nice job hope. good choices. my reflection is interrupted by a call from sam taraguici. at this weird point in my life, they are an essential communication. his name on the screen makes me sick to my stomach. he asks if i'm with kyle and then hangs up. i can hear they're still partying. i'm about to fall asleep when sam calls again. he's freaking out. he says, hope you need to call char alex just called, and said that for one bullet he'd give him all the money in his savings and his truck. i'm incoherrent, and i can tell sam is getting frustrated "hope do i sound like i'm fucking kidding?" he tells me, you're all those kids have. i think, but what the fuck do i have? he says he's gonna call alex back and he'll let me know. when he does, he's sounding even worse. i hate this fucking night. he tells me the house they're at got busted, a kid who had ran away got too fucked up and called his brother, who sent the police he tells me not to call char, he's gonna call alex and get it all straightened out. at this point i don't have alex's number. i think, this has been the longest night of my fucking life. and, kyle fucking owes me for dragging him out of that house. it's two in the morning. i have school in five hours. 2010

[hopecartel]

to go back to a place much simpler than this;

we’re trying a new location of our favorite pizza parlor, in the District instead of Draper i tell myself this symbolizes new beginnings it’s a new place and we’re new people i get coke. i get coke, because i’m so fucking nervous i forget i haven’t drank soda for six weeks. because i forget that i’ve lost six pounds since i quit drinking it. so i sip this coke, and i look at him. when the food comes i eat a cheese pull apart because i also forget that i haven’t really been eating for weeks. I’m looking down, thinking of how i could dissect this food how i could pick it apart and make it looked like i ate something. but sitting now, i realize that if anyone, you of all people would notice my trick. so i take a few more bites. and then this kid sits across from me, and calls me out about taking pills. i expect him to call me a junky, to tell me how shitty i look because i’m wearing the last six weeks on my face. no eating, no sleeping, i look like a fucking ghost. but instead i find hurt in his eyes, there’s a concern in his voice. he’s frustrated, but he keeps saying, “i care about you, and i’m worried.” i’m speechless. i think, i must be pretty fucking bad if kyle is counseling me about my drug problem. whatever gratitude i have quickly shifts to anger, and i want to tell him to go fuck himself but that doesn’t come out. instead i just sigh and I tell him, “i know.” because i know how shitty i’m doing; i’m living it. i think about five nights ago, when i was crying so hard i couldn’t talk and my mom came in to find i drank the whole bottle of niquil. i think about how i promised myself i would never smoke without you, or someone; never smoke alone but how i’ve been alone and high for weeks now. i think about the rush and anxiety of contemplating an overdose on pain pills that’s haunted me. and then i come back to him, saying my name like he always does when i need to come down. and i reassure him again, “yeah i know, i’m working on it.” i try to picture this as my rock bottom my drug dealing ex giving me an intervention about pills. but i really feel like i’ve gotten away with everything else, he can’t tell i haven’t eaten. he can’t tell i’m not sleeping. he doesn’t know i’ve been smoking again. so when i get in my car, i smile. because i still feel like i’ve won even if all i’ve won is the power to make you feel worried like i’ve always worried; the power to remind you that somewhere deep down you give a shit. but the whole way home i have the talk with myself because my face is hollow, my eyes are empty and it’s getting bad again.

[hopecartel]

we're at the top of sego lilly

we’re so fucked up then all the sudden we’re fighting, you keep saying, fuck you, and you’re calling me a slut. you keep asking how many other guys i’ve been fucking. you’re telling me to get the fuck out of your truck, you’re saying, walk home for all i care. nate is sitting there for all of this and i can’t tell which one of us is more confused. then in between my cross faded thoughts it hits me the last time i saw you this angry my bruised ribs, your hands on my neck then instead of mad i get so fucking scared i start shaking. so i finally agree with you, “i’ll walk home you fucking asshole.” and i slam the door to your truck nate doesn’t know what to say really, the fact that nate taraguici is worried about me is the reddest flag. i’m eight houses from Lizzy’s. but i’m prideful and i’m so fucked up i don’t even know what i’d say and i’m so embarrassed, i feel so damn stupid. it’s four miles home and i try to make myself feel better because it’s all downhill but i can’t think about that. i exhale it’s one thirty in the morning and it’s raining, my drug dealing boyfriend dropped me off next to the gully after i smoked a dime bag, and drank a thirty between the three of us. i think, what a sweet sixteen but my dear sweet kyle, it really isn’t even you i’m mad at anymore. as i head home in the middle of this night with no one to call, i’m mad at myself because i always cut off everyone who acts like they give a fuck about me. i’m freezing now i’m still shaking. and i’m in a corner with no one to call. so i keep walking, and i remind myself that i got myself here. then i pray to a god that i keep praying is listening, that i don’t run into anyone or anything that could hurt me more than i’ve already hurt myself.

[hopecartel]

sick.

nothing you can do to stop the building anger, and even if you could, you don't want to. because anger feels better than the pain of losing someone.

[hopecartel]

if I was meant to die he would have killed me

there must be a reason that I still breath

[hopecartel]

i just needed to know that someone like you existed

i just feel hurt i feel like i love you, but this insane fucking feeling of not being what someone wants and why do you let your imagination run wild like we’d go running and you wouldn’t let me stop but there was so much in between that and Hope, how do you put that to the side and instead remember a bunch of bullshit from a time you can’t relate to anymore hold on to that so you can pretend it’s not a scorching transforming ember in your hand like it’s not too hot to hold onto but you’re too afraid to come out empty handed you’ll burn a hold through your hand before you let go so at least then everyone can see you used to have something worth holding onto but thats not right that’s wrong that’s what i’m trying not to keep doing, it’s the habit i’m trying to break like you broke down walls and i broke myself trying not to bend and somehow i thought we would merge become one, like the night i thought we did then coldly being reminded i’m still alone and being so alone that i drank until i blacked out and woke up the next day wishing i was that drunk three nights before and woke up without the memory of feeling connected to someone what you don’t understand you can make mean anything like somethings going to change or something’s gotta give but instead of give it took and it took me four days to realize i was on my own and then to remember i never wasn’t on my own but somehow i was one step further when i thought we were two steps closer then we weren’t even walking the same direction but we kept walking like you kept talking and when i finally looked back i didn’t see you there anymore well i saw you there but not here i lost track of your foot prints and i wondered if you ever looked for mine

[hopecartel]

sometimes when I get too sad about you

I look at our pictures from New York loving you in a different state was like loving a new person, getting a new person this one stayed clean and never called me a bitch this one listened to me and made me feel like I was worth something we walked down the streets and figured out subway schedules like it was normal for us how could we make it through seemingly endless obstacles across the country but at home we couldn’t even see eye to eye We couldn’t eat a meal without finding something to fight about But in other places we were other people and those people worked like i wish we would have

[hopecartel]

and every once in a while I look over at you

and all I can do is smile, because look at us both here. we’re in my car, it’s two AM, in Magna of all places, and you’re reading me the most beautiful poetry I’ve ever heard. You’re breaking my heart with these incredible lines, all I can want to do is hug you. I’m watching the emotion in your face, you’re so vulnerable and I’m speechless to be witnessing this. I want to let you know that I love you. That I love you and even if nothing changes and this is us forever, I’ll always be happy to listen to your poetry at two in the morning and eat skittles. I would do whatever, whenever, if you say so. I won’t forget your birthday but I’m a fucking mess though. and I always feel so lucky to be your best friend, you’re this paradox of beautiful things I get to know. I’m lucky to enough to watch these layers unravel and see your depth come to life. And for the first time in my life, you’re worth it.

[hopecartel]

lohavete.

I inhale, and it burns. I feel the smoke curl down my throat, the high goes to my head.

I look down at my sweater, and then I look around. The Jeep’s foggy with smoke, and I can barely see outside the windows. I breath out, and watch the smoke as it floats away. Everything is in slow motion. 

I remember something Colton Lister said to me once in health, about smoking everyday. All the time. High, twenty four seven. Sober was the weird for him, and I wonder what that would be like. I wonder if he knows who he is.

I almost look over at Kyle. I almost look him in the eye and ask him why we’re here. I think of all these things I need to tell him. I stare out the window in silence for what feels like an hour.

“Heeeree,” he says. I look over; it’s my hit. 

I inhale strong, carrying the smoke as far down as it can go. I feel good. I feel light. I feel fucking invisible.

For the first time in a long time, a thought crosses my mind;; who the fuck am I anymore? I’m not ready for it. I cough out hard, the smoke filing unorganized across my lap, eventually blending in with the rest of my mistakes. I am empty sober, a smile in the hall, and an attendance record that shows I’ve got no life. I feel like I know myself most when I’m drunk, happy and giddy, that’s the only time I find who I am.

I look in the rear-view mirror. I see my dad. I shake my head hard, putting my face into my hands. This isn’t happening.  Kyle’s looking at me for the first time. I tell him I’m just cold, and he’s too high to realize I’m wearing two coats and jeans underneath my boots. He doesn’t ask questions, so neither do I.

I silently wonder if I could find myself tucked somewhere in a sack of THC. If I wasn’t as high as I was at that minute, I would’ve known it wasn’t possible. But for the moment, it sounds like an incredible thought.

I take one last hit, filling my cheeks until I feel my throat burning uncontrollably. I extend my exhale, watching the smoke as it diffuses into the air, swirling and twirling into nonexistence. I wonder if that’s what we do when we die. When smoke’s gone, it’s gone. That’s how everything else is that I can think of.

I think, stop thinking, you’re thinking too much.

I open the door, smoke floods into the open air. I look around. Everything seems so foreign, like it’s my first time stepping out of this vehicle. The sky, the air, and the trees all look beautiful. Something from a painting, maybe, or a puzzle.

Kyle’s almost at the gate. “Are you coming?”  He sounds inpatient.

“Yeaah, I’m coming.” I tell him. I wonder if I could tell him what’s on my mind, get into some big discussion about something, where we end up sharing everything with each other. But I think, that’s over Hope. High or not. .

  That’s when I realize that it’s true. It’s all over. It sucks, but I’m gonna choose to see it for what it is, not what I want it to be.

I end up riding my bike home. It’s dark and it’s freezing. I don’t think about anything the whole way home, besides how bad my body hurts.

I don’t think about Myke all day, until I got home. I want to tell him he’s a beautiful person, but more than that I want to tell him to go fuck himself. I don’t want to lie anymore, and besides, I don’t need him.