I took my last two finals at school last night. At six p.m. the school was already resting under a blanket of thick black sky. And I shivered, clutching my laptop bag as I wobbled back to the other side of campus, back into my car. It was the first time in a long time that the cold bothered me. Usually I'd light up a cigarette, let the warmth fill my lungs for a short instance, and the only cold I'd feel would resonate from the tip of my nose or my stubby fingers. But that walk to my car felt like an eternity, and I felt that I'd truly freeze to death. So I did the only thing I could do. I smoked. I smoked a bit. For those who don't know, I've been trying to quit smoking, and it is a difficult battle. I failed yesterday.
Forgive me.
When my car finished heating up, backed out of the parking space and I made a right turn. Then a left. But instead of taking the next right, I took a left. I made my way to Lindsay's and ended up staying there for about three hours. I missed her. We spent all that time laughing and eating and listening to music and talking about the past semester. But when those three hours were up and it was time for me to leave, the sadness hit my like a bullet to the head. I cried hysterically the entire twenty minutes home because I knew that home wasn't home anymore. And it never will be again. And I cried because I knew that home was nowhere, but I had to keep coming back to this stupid dingy house, inside the corridors of these stupid pink walls, into the white abyss of my bed. The only place under this roof that has ever housed me is also the birthplace of my worst memory. And by the end of February, that memory will be realized and real, and I can't do a single thing to stop it.
mkp.
