Sentence Me to Another Life
Meaningless.
I look out to the horizon and exhale smoke.
I rarely smoke. Frankly, I only do when I don't know what I'm supposed to do.
The Vegas sun is setting, the glow slowly fading with each drag I take.
I'm on the roof of my apartment building, sitting in a lawn chair that's always up here and occasionally getting up to kick some beer cans or look over the edge at the dots on the sidewalk below.
Not that I'd actually do it, I just sometimes wonder what would happen if I fell off the ledge, lost my balance, something like that. How many people would care? Would Ryan even care? Would he feel a tiny bit of guilt when he realizes he always used to be sarcastic and indifferent towards me?
To be honest, I'd care if he died. I wouldn't be heart broken, but I would care a bit. Maybe not attend the funeral, but put some crappy flowers I bought with what little money I could on his grave.
I put out the stubby cigarette and close my eyes.
His face appears, but I push it away. My parents come to mind, them at my funeral, saying how wonderful I was despite them throwing me on the street. I doubt I'd even have a funeral if my parents didn't pay for it. Without them, I'd probably be cremated and sent to them, along with others in my family. Not to Ryan, my parents wouldn't have anything sent to him and he'd just be always feeling a little guilty due to his indifference towards me.
He's probably at home with Keltie, asking her about dancing and laughing over something.
That will never be me, and I accept it. Those times I thought he was flirting, he was just playing with my head.
I'd like to believe he means it when he says something nice to me, but I always have that voice in the back of my head who is telling me that he really is annoyed and feels sorry for me.
To everyone I care about even the slightest, I mean nothing.
I stand up and leave to go to my apartment so I can fall asleep and have fucked up dreams.
I rarely smoke. Frankly, I only do when I don't know what I'm supposed to do.
The Vegas sun is setting, the glow slowly fading with each drag I take.
I'm on the roof of my apartment building, sitting in a lawn chair that's always up here and occasionally getting up to kick some beer cans or look over the edge at the dots on the sidewalk below.
Not that I'd actually do it, I just sometimes wonder what would happen if I fell off the ledge, lost my balance, something like that. How many people would care? Would Ryan even care? Would he feel a tiny bit of guilt when he realizes he always used to be sarcastic and indifferent towards me?
To be honest, I'd care if he died. I wouldn't be heart broken, but I would care a bit. Maybe not attend the funeral, but put some crappy flowers I bought with what little money I could on his grave.
I put out the stubby cigarette and close my eyes.
His face appears, but I push it away. My parents come to mind, them at my funeral, saying how wonderful I was despite them throwing me on the street. I doubt I'd even have a funeral if my parents didn't pay for it. Without them, I'd probably be cremated and sent to them, along with others in my family. Not to Ryan, my parents wouldn't have anything sent to him and he'd just be always feeling a little guilty due to his indifference towards me.
He's probably at home with Keltie, asking her about dancing and laughing over something.
That will never be me, and I accept it. Those times I thought he was flirting, he was just playing with my head.
I'd like to believe he means it when he says something nice to me, but I always have that voice in the back of my head who is telling me that he really is annoyed and feels sorry for me.
To everyone I care about even the slightest, I mean nothing.
I stand up and leave to go to my apartment so I can fall asleep and have fucked up dreams.
♠ ♠ ♠
Very long delay, I know. I feel very irresponsible.(And if anyone is reading my other story Behind Closed Doors, then that has been updated too.)