some more of my novel, "addicted"

as it swayed in soft circles dangling upside down from my ceiling fan, i watched through tears as the carnations wilted white petals penetrated the darkness of my room. it was dead and brown and lifeless...i guess i sort of related to it.my body ached for him once again...for his hands wrapped around my waist and his chin every so often brushing against my shoulder, past my neck, and to my cheek where he'd kiss me and tell me i was perfect.

 

but i was too much to handle.

my flaws weren't beautiful like he said...

they were baggage.

and i knew it all along.

 

his words came flooding back to my like a tsunami in my head, rupturing  my skull, making my ears wring and my mouth dry out. " i love you, but i cant do this"

"you're too much"

"this is too much"

"you're a trigger"

i guzzled down another cup or so of vodka. thank god my parents weren't the kind that put liqueur in a safe because they didn't trust their kids.

 

my hair was matted...i hadn't showered in days...my makeup was still smeared from that night and i still wore the same cloths.

 

he had given me the carnation when we were walking in the road some 4 weeks ago. he said the blinding whiteness of its petals represented purity and resurrection...and that was when he promised that he would try harder to change if i did the same...

then he kissed my wrists, and said i was perfect.

BULL FUCKING SHIT.

we snuck back into my room at around 2 am, and he tied the flower to my ceiling fan, claiming that hanging it upside down would help the petals stay in tact. 

and its still there.

 it began to slither off of my fan, onto my creaky wooden bed frame. it crawled from my toes, up my body, scraping my dry as hell skin with its thorns, until it came to my collar bones. it gradually started to coil around my neck, and its pestles, one by one blew off reviling brown, brittle stigmas and pollen. its thorns protruded through my skin and fragile veins and into my esophagus and i began to choke on my own blood. but i didn't struggle. i just didn't try to breath. i just let myself drown in liquid crimson life. i tasted iron in the back f my throat, and it seeped out of the corners of my mouth. things were fading white slowly.  i felt nothing. no sadness, great fullness, nothing. was i dying? maybe. but that thought didn't bother me.

i trusted him and he threw me away because i was " a trigger"

he said he was different

he said i was different

he said...he...

                                                                                  ***

my eyes flew open, staring directly at the carnation back where it should be and not around my throat. i looked at my phone on my night stand for the time. 2:00 am. i came to the conclusion that i must had passed out after drinking...

i set down my phone and traded it for the bottle, then i reached under my pillow and pulled out a bottle of sleeping pills, then popped about 6 in my mouth one by one followed by a sip of vodka to wash each down. 

i don't ever want to wake up.

but i guessed i could start by sleeping through tomorrow.

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