Only.
We lose ourselves, but we find it all.
He looked blankly at his reflection in the mirror. Blood-shot eyes, tousled hair, a thick cloud of smoke escaped his lips. His dark brown, almost black locks fell gingerly across his face.
“I’ve figured it out.” The boy coughed, turning to his friends, who were seated on the carpet floor. “There is no you …Only me.” A single tear fell from his eye, and he slowly sat beside his friends, who were oblivious to what his ‘epiphany’ meant. The boy took a shot of vodka off the nearby coffee table, oblivious to anything but his Smirnoff.
“Dude. I think I understand you...” A red-haired friend muttered, as he rolled a joint on the coffee table. “..We are. We are, only, you know?” with a flick of a Zippo lighter, another wave of THC euphoria washed over the small group of kids, all desperately decoding what was just said.
The next morning, the same young boy awoke to the sights and smells of marijuana and alcohol, all familiar to him. A girl lay at his side, her hair just as disheveled as his. A spilt glass of vodka lay to her right, a purple glass waterbong on her chest, coincidentally stripper to her black and blue striped lingerie. An obscenity slipped from his lips, and he sat up, taking as much caution as a hung-over boy could not to wake any of the passed out teens in the room.
He could remember the night before clear as day. The night had started like all their “get togethers” had before. Someone ‘innocently’ pulls out a few grams of some illegal drug, and everyone partakes in smoking a bit of it. The jokes begin, and eventually everyone is huddled around alcohol and a bong, laughing and having philosophical moments. Needless to say, this wasn’t an exception.
“Bahahaha, oh my god, you almost puked!”
“Get the FUCK off the table, bitch!”
“So the nigger says…” and so-on. But something from last night didn’t seem right to him. Probably something someone said? He didn’t see any significance in any of their demented / euphoric ramblings. But still, something didn’t settle right with him. Something he had ‘realized’ was sitting at the back of his mind, poking fun at his memory, suffocating his sense of urgency.
Was it the thing he said about the chickens with human arms? He pushes all doubts and worries into a corner in his head, and finds another glass, another shot. The rustling beside him alerted our dear friend that a friend has awakened from their drunk and passed-out stupor.
“Fuck…” the raven-haired girl cursed as she sat up and grabbed her lighter, proceeding to light the bowl of the bong on her chest. Faint bubbling and a relieved moan escaped her lips, along with white smoke.
“Jesus Christ, your eyes haven’t even opened, and you’re at that fuckin’ thing?” He screamed, followed by the coughing of the teen girl.
“Shut the fuck up, Kay? You’re already drinking, stupid fucker.” She squealed in between coughs.
“That’s fucking true, but Jesus, I waited until I woke up before I took another shot. Kay? Kay.”
“Ugh, quiet. You’ll wake up the others.” She put the bong down and got to her feet, seemingly oblivious to her semi-nudeness. Yawning, she walked into the bathroom adjacent to the basement rec-room and checked her face in the mirror, wiping bleeding eyeliner from the bottom of her eyes.
“I pray to god you didn’t slip out of those jeans last night. Fuck.” Her murmured as she walked out of the bathroom, nearly stepping on the lanky boy with short, cropped hair.
“I’m sure I stayed in them. Besides, none of you fucks are anyone to take my clothes off for.” She grabbed her lime-green shirt off the floor and quickly slipped it on, tugging the bottom, then proceeded to fix her belt and jean waist. With a sigh, she sat down on the couch and picked up the bottle of Smirnoff, chugging it slowly, savoring what was left of the strong white alcohol.
“Slow down, bitch. You don’t need to be constantly buzzed.”
“Fuck you. I want to be constantly drunk.” She lay back on the couch, eyes closed. This scene was normal, but something wasn’t sitting right with the boy. Something on the inside, deep down, was pulling his attention to the innermost parts of his mind.
Maybe that’s what was bothering him? His headstrong attitude for trying desperately to find something wrong with the night before? A Paradox? No, haha He thought. My emotions, what could’ve triggered this off? He bit his lip and noticed a slight numbness. Still buzzed. Hopefully, that’s all that was influencing his thoughts…
“I’ve figured it out.” The boy coughed, turning to his friends, who were seated on the carpet floor. “There is no you …Only me.” A single tear fell from his eye, and he slowly sat beside his friends, who were oblivious to what his ‘epiphany’ meant. The boy took a shot of vodka off the nearby coffee table, oblivious to anything but his Smirnoff.
“Dude. I think I understand you...” A red-haired friend muttered, as he rolled a joint on the coffee table. “..We are. We are, only, you know?” with a flick of a Zippo lighter, another wave of THC euphoria washed over the small group of kids, all desperately decoding what was just said.
The next morning, the same young boy awoke to the sights and smells of marijuana and alcohol, all familiar to him. A girl lay at his side, her hair just as disheveled as his. A spilt glass of vodka lay to her right, a purple glass waterbong on her chest, coincidentally stripper to her black and blue striped lingerie. An obscenity slipped from his lips, and he sat up, taking as much caution as a hung-over boy could not to wake any of the passed out teens in the room.
He could remember the night before clear as day. The night had started like all their “get togethers” had before. Someone ‘innocently’ pulls out a few grams of some illegal drug, and everyone partakes in smoking a bit of it. The jokes begin, and eventually everyone is huddled around alcohol and a bong, laughing and having philosophical moments. Needless to say, this wasn’t an exception.
“Bahahaha, oh my god, you almost puked!”
“Get the FUCK off the table, bitch!”
“So the nigger says…” and so-on. But something from last night didn’t seem right to him. Probably something someone said? He didn’t see any significance in any of their demented / euphoric ramblings. But still, something didn’t settle right with him. Something he had ‘realized’ was sitting at the back of his mind, poking fun at his memory, suffocating his sense of urgency.
Was it the thing he said about the chickens with human arms? He pushes all doubts and worries into a corner in his head, and finds another glass, another shot. The rustling beside him alerted our dear friend that a friend has awakened from their drunk and passed-out stupor.
“Fuck…” the raven-haired girl cursed as she sat up and grabbed her lighter, proceeding to light the bowl of the bong on her chest. Faint bubbling and a relieved moan escaped her lips, along with white smoke.
“Jesus Christ, your eyes haven’t even opened, and you’re at that fuckin’ thing?” He screamed, followed by the coughing of the teen girl.
“Shut the fuck up, Kay? You’re already drinking, stupid fucker.” She squealed in between coughs.
“That’s fucking true, but Jesus, I waited until I woke up before I took another shot. Kay? Kay.”
“Ugh, quiet. You’ll wake up the others.” She put the bong down and got to her feet, seemingly oblivious to her semi-nudeness. Yawning, she walked into the bathroom adjacent to the basement rec-room and checked her face in the mirror, wiping bleeding eyeliner from the bottom of her eyes.
“I pray to god you didn’t slip out of those jeans last night. Fuck.” Her murmured as she walked out of the bathroom, nearly stepping on the lanky boy with short, cropped hair.
“I’m sure I stayed in them. Besides, none of you fucks are anyone to take my clothes off for.” She grabbed her lime-green shirt off the floor and quickly slipped it on, tugging the bottom, then proceeded to fix her belt and jean waist. With a sigh, she sat down on the couch and picked up the bottle of Smirnoff, chugging it slowly, savoring what was left of the strong white alcohol.
“Slow down, bitch. You don’t need to be constantly buzzed.”
“Fuck you. I want to be constantly drunk.” She lay back on the couch, eyes closed. This scene was normal, but something wasn’t sitting right with the boy. Something on the inside, deep down, was pulling his attention to the innermost parts of his mind.
Maybe that’s what was bothering him? His headstrong attitude for trying desperately to find something wrong with the night before? A Paradox? No, haha He thought. My emotions, what could’ve triggered this off? He bit his lip and noticed a slight numbness. Still buzzed. Hopefully, that’s all that was influencing his thoughts…