Compliment Each Other Like Colors

This is the end. The end of our story.

Everything's a dark color now: gray; black; navy blue.

I miss the days that use to be oh so vibrant with colors of yellow, pretty blues, and white.

I stared at the picture in my shaking hand. The edges were now frayed and torn, the color fading, just like our relationship. In the picture we weren't holding hands or touching each other. Instead we just stared, stared at the beauty we saw in each other. We saw beautiful colors in each other eyes, such bright colors.

The apartment was wrecked, papers and clothing throw astray on the floor. We lived in a small one bedroom apartment in one of the worst neighborhoods but I didn't mind. We didn't have a lot of money and we were barely making our rent payment each month. But we didn't mind, we had each other. He had me and I had him.

Some people may say that our relationship was never real. Through the needles and the smoke and the highs, we loved each other. The drugs only made our love stronger, they kept us together longer.

I dropped the picture on the table and looked down at myself. I was practically in rags. My finger nails were jagged and bitten. My hair stuck up in different angles. I was wearing two different color socks.

I walked over to the counter and picked up a bag full of white powder. I picked up the stray syringe laying in the sink and filled it dirty tap water and ejected the water into the bag. I waited for all of the drug to soak up all the water, ready for injection. Usually I filtered it with a cigarette filter but today I didn't care.

I didn't care at all. I didn't want to feel anymore. I wanted all the pain; sadness; loneliness to go away.

I inserted the liquidy powder back into the needle and extended my arm. Little cuts and marks adorned the crook of my elbow and a slight smile came to my face. I remember the good times with Brendon, all the wonderful times we had. The drugs made us feel like we were invincible, like we could do anything. I missed that feeling.

The drug shot into my blood system and I waited.

One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. Four Mississippi. Five Mississippi. Six Mississippi.

I felt the wonderful sensation flow through my body. I should of felt happy, like I was on cloud nine. But my mind wouldn't let go, the thought kept nipping at me.

This. This was our thing. Slamming was our thing. The first time I had ever done it was with him. And this was the only time I had ever done it without him.

I threw the syringe back into the sink and didn't stop the tears that came. They ran down my already mascara stained face.

This wasn't the drugs talking. It was me.