.25.

                                    

                                          
When I'm alone in my apartment my mind drifts to the club. To the guy. His arm around my shoulders, his lips on mine. 
                          
I'm nauseated with myself.
                          
How desperate I am.
                          
How my loneliness let him touch me in some pathetic need to feel wanted while I was hopped up on drugs. All self respect gone, though I'm not really sure if I had much to begin with.
                          
Lifting a fifth of whiskey to my lips, I sink into my couch, hoping to drown out the memories in my head.
                          
So far it hasn't happened. 
                          
                              ————————
                          
I stumble through the dark streets, my body uncoordinated as I lean against anything I can. Tipping the fifth back, I'm met with nothing, the bottle dry and I grumble to myself before I toss it in a bush on my walk. 
                          
Navigating the streets like I've walked this path a million times sober, I'm able to just barely make out the neat little townhouses with their happy fronts that line the street.
                          
I cross the street not bothering to look for traffic. It'd be a blessing if someone just took me out of my misery but I'm never that fortunate and most everyone's sleeping, at least in this neighborhood. So I stumble up the steps to the front door. 
                          
My knuckles rap lazily against the turquoise paint, my body swaying in the night breeze. My eyes are heavy, rolling around in my head making it impossible to focus on a damn thing. I bang my knuckles against the door again.
                          
"Hannah." I call out. "Hannah!"
                          
Her name is like a song, soft and melodic, angelic. Just like her.
                          
I lean my forehead against the door, the wood cool against my skin. 
                          
I had no intention of coming here. If anything I've been trying to stay the hell away from her. She's beautiful and kind and way too caring. Strong and intelligent. Patient but effervescent. She's everything I don't deserve. 
                          
And really I'm just waiting for death to come knocking on my door. Or maybe I'll go find it again. 
                          
"Hannah." I mumble to the wood, slapping my hand against the smooth surface.
                          
I'm completely unprepared for the support of the door to leave but it does and I stumble through the entryway like the clumsy fool I am.
                          
"Drew?" Birdie says alarmed. "Oh my god are you okay?"
                          
I hit the ground hard, rolling onto my back as I stare up at a chandelier that's catching the moonlight.  
                          
"Drew?" 
                          
I almost tell her not to be concerned. But my tongue feels like cotton in my mouth and I know if I tried to speak my words would come out slurred and slow.
                          
"You smell like whiskey." 
                          
Her hand is warm as she presses it to my face and tips my gaze to hers. She's beautiful. Her dark curls piled on her head, perfect little spirals loose and framing her face. Even in the dark I can see the mix of light gold and soft green that mingles in her irises and the beautiful honey color of her skin. 
                          
I know I'm drunk.
                          
I know I'm really really fucked up. 
                          
But I'm lonely and desperate and I just want to feel something. And Birdie's the only thing that sparks life into my body, at least the only thing that doesn't require drugs. So I raise my hand, my finger tips lightly brushing her silky skin as I tuck a springy curl behind her ear. Her eyes dancing between mine, filled with concern for me even though I deserve it. Pushing myself to my elbow, she lets her hand fall from my cheek. Her lips slightly parted as I slip my palm to her slender jawline. 
                          
I know I shouldn't.
                          
But she's watching me, her hazel eyes focused only on me and my heart soars in my chest. I've only thought about kissing Birdie for years. Every time I saw her. 
                          
Slowly leaning closer, my heart starts to hammer in my chest. Something that only happens now when she's near. Like she's awoken something inside me that I thought was dead. Its addicting and alluring and even though I know I'm like a disease, sucking life from everyone around me, right now all I want is to feel alive. 
                          
Her hazel eyes lock on mine, searching mine for answers but I don't have any good ones. I silently beg her to pull away because I know what I'm doing isn't good. That she deserves more than me, that I'll just end up hurting her. But she sucks in a breath, her chest expanding, eyes dilating slightly and this thrumming electricity rockets through my body and I just want to feel more. So I press my lips to hers and everything screams inside me.
                          
                                 ———————
                          
Fuck. That's the only thing that describes the bull shit going on in my head. 
                          
But besides the fact that I'm losing my shit who was pumped for a double update?!
                          
Am I halfway through this motherfucking anxiety cycle yet? 
                          
God damn. 
                          
^am I using enough fucking profanity to really get my point across? 
                          
Also, I think I finally want to make the jump to veganism. Except I fucking love seafood. I'm not sure how that's going to work. 
                          
I wish I could put sounds into words. Haha that makes me sound like I'm high. I'm not. For the record.