Friday, September 12, 2008

Two thousand and sicks

My breath is short and my heartbeat is slowing down to a tightening pace. It makes my chest feel inflated and blocked off from the rest of my body.
My head is light and dizzy. Year 8 is leaping up into mouth, begging for freedom. I wish I could let it go. I spray my Fa deodorant. My throat locks up. My eyes flicker. Is this really happening?
I waver and nearly fall. I can taste beer. I can feel his head in my lap, stroking my leg. Leave, fucking get away. I don't want that. Not that. The rest is okay. Just not him.
My blonde fringe swings in front of my eyes. Huge, blue eyes. Two fat, chunky rings clink on the front of my teeth as I grin wide and bright. Fuck yes. This is it. My hit. My drug. Year 8...

xx

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