Dazzle These Nights Dead

I turned back slowly, watching as the old lady furrowed her brows, growling under her breath as she swiped a pack of cigarettes and stuffed them in the yellow plastic bag before packing the money into the cash register and shoving the bag toward me.

"Have a grand day, sir" the old lady growled through her teeth, obvious defeat clinging to her features. I stared from my peripheral vision, too terrified to look the girl straight in the face. I've always had a problem with that, making eye contact with people I don't really know, I never actually look at them, normally I look at something beside them. It makes me too nervous and fidgety, I guess now sense everything has happened I've gotten even worse. She tucked her hair behind her ear, sliding her little rainbow star covered wallet back into her back pocket. I hesitantly opened my mouth, should I say anything at all?

"T-thanks, for the-uhm-cigarettes..." I mumbled below my breath, automatically wishing I had worded it differently as soon as the first syllable escaped my lips. I forced my head to creakily turn in her direction, her face didn't even shift as if she were going to open her mouth and reply, no smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, all I saw was a blank slab staring me in the face. She shook her head, obviously disappointed with something I did, and turned, pushing the door open, setting the bell colliding with the glass door as she evaporated into the backdrop of the outside world.

I couldn't budge, I felt like I was one of those characters in the movies where they have an inescapable death plowing towards them, but they are paralyzed with fear, and can't run away. Those characters that usually piss people off and make them shout at the giant movie screen to move the fuck out of the way before they get killed...but they never move. And I was one of those people now... or so it felt. Everything just seemed so cloudy, it's like I was staring through one of those fly-eye telescopes that show you several different views of something at one time, it's like I could see all those things, but never do anything about it. I was blind, I wish I were blind...

Absent mindedly my legs carried me out of the gas station, my sweating hands desperately clutching the little yellow bag with the giant thumbs up on it... they were basically applauding me for buying those things... what an odd thing. What if some kid bought some cough syrup or something with intentions of going home and getting high and the bag was just giving the a thumbs up about it. It's like the world these days just encourages kids to die young, we all know the more you tell a kid not to do something, the more likely they are to do it anyway. It's rebellion, every kid has it... so everyone should know by now not to force good choices upon them right? Sometimes I swear people just want kids dead.

I hadn't even noticed that I was moving so steadily, nearly half way home already. I felt like a ghost almost, like I'm just floating, I'm not forcing my legs to walk; they were walking on their own. I'm not forcing my lungs to breathe and filter the oxygen, they were doing it themselves. I hate these kinds of moments, when you just feel like a little bitty speck sitting in a stranger's body, staring out of their eyes from behind a film. Words will just tumble from your mouth without your acknowledgement, limbs will move against your will. You never really feel like you're alive, you feel like the body your sitting in is stealing your air, like it's trying to control the way you are spending a valuable moment. I get that a lot, but I don't mind it now as much as I used to, I mean, there's nothing much for me to be missing out on anymore.

I fidgeted with the handle of my apartment, shoving the door open with as much force as possible as I floated inside, removing the cigarettes from the yellow bag. It almost felt like my skin was burning as I touched the carton, as if it too was as deadly as the cigarettes themselves. I tossed them on the table, a sharp pain shooting through my back as I did so. I grimaced, holding my hands tightly against my lower rib cage as I limped over to the medicine cabinet, tugging it open and desperately retrieving two Tylenol. I popped them into my mouth, swallowing them without water. I don't know what it is with me-but I seem to get these pains a lot, and the Tylenol rarely even helps, it's terrible.

I sighed, staring across the kitchen. I couldn't help but stare at the smashed phone that lay off the hook in the corner, the wires protruding from the black plastic device. I can't even remember exactly how long that thing has been laying there in that condition, but I know it's been several months. It happened from a fit of rage; I damn near electrocuted myself ripping it out of the wall. But I guess it doesn't really matter anyway, it hadn't rang in about a couple of months, no one cared enough. One of the reasons I had my phone completely disconnected so I wouldn't have to worry about the bill.

Well, that and the fact that at one point of time it rang constantly, and every time I heard it I knew I would hear her soft sobbing voice on the other line, trying to apologize and explain why she left me; That's the last thing I wanted to hear... the voice of a woman who helped finalize my detachment from the world. After about a month of me either turning into a mute, unresponsive shell on the other line or me simply ignoring the aching rings and painful mailbox full of messages ... she gave up, everyone gave up, I gave up.

No one even accidentally dialed the number, except for in one case when a girl by the name of Lily accidentally called me whilst trying to phone her grandmother. She sounded pretty upset, like she might have really needed to talk to her grandmother, but I didn't even care at the time. I just knew her name reminded me of one of my favorite Smashing Pumpkin songs and I knew I hadn't even spoken to anyone other than myself and the stars in over five months. I was desperate to talk to anyone, I even stooped to the level of talking to my reflection, I usually argued with the little bitch, he's quite inconsiderate you know.

But anyway, I kept this girl talking for a whole thirty minutes, all the while she was starting to sound a little scared, but I guess it is kind of creepy if the person who's number you accidentally dialed strikes up a conversation with you. I never really did tell her my name, she probably really would have hung up on me then. I really am ashamed to know I share that name with that monster, honestly, I am.

Lily finally ended up stopping me in the middle of my story about why my wife left me, to say that she really needed to call her grandmother, it was an emergency, and that she felt terrible for me but that it's life. She hung up without even saying goodbye; I completely froze up, grimacing at the pastel color wall, letting the receiver fall from my hands and crash against the old linoleum floor.

The buzzing sound from her hanging up hung over the atmosphere, burning my ear drums, I burst into tears. I just wanted to talk to someone... I was so eager to inject my thoughts from over the past five months into someone's mind, but there was no one willing to listen. But then again, who wants to listen to a man who's beginning to lose his grip on reality blubber to them about things that don't make the least bit sense to them... I'm literally losing it, I can feel it.

What if the Lilly I talked to was the girl from the store today? What if she recognized my voice and had more than one reason to mentally scold me for being what she might consider as foolish. I admit, what I am doing is idiotic, no one should ever do this, it's not healthy, but I simply can't avoid it. At least I'm not just coming right out with a gun or a noose and trying to end it that way, right? At least I am doing what would be technically be considered as a "natural" death, right?

I sighed, reaching out to run my fingers along the white pack of cigarettes as they remained in the middle of the table. They were almost intimidating as the thin plastic dress hugged them, the only thing keeping my bony, itching fingers away from the captivating killers that slept within.

Is that really the reason that they blanket these miniature cardboard boxes in an otherwise unnecessary plastic coat? I mean, it's not like it could be used to prevent robbers being able to smoke them, because it's just a thin layer of it, it peels right off in the matter of seconds. So honestly, what is their point in it, other than to give a person a few moments to think about numerous things that the small and seemingly harmless forms that lie within this box can do to you? Of course, no doubt about it that some people don't even give it a second thought, they just tear the damn pack open and light one up as soon as possible. I know that's how I used to be... until today. Now I can't even look at the damn box without being thrown into a whirlwind of fears, deep considerations about how just one of those skinny, white sticks can effect my life forever.

Why the hell am I being so ridiculous over a simple gesture from some girl that doesn't even know the slightest bit about what's happening to me? All she even knows is what she could see in that gas station, that's all she knows. So why am I letting a simple thing like her shaking her head in obvious disappointment at me get to my head?

I growled, scooping the box up in my hands, viciously tearing open the plastic like a ravenous wolf, popping open the carton for the necessity I've been deprived of. I slid out the anorexic white sliver, spinning it in my trembling finger tips... Do I really want to do this? Do I really want to just keep smoking up the once valuable days of my life? Well it's not like they will be spent on anything useful anymore anyway... besides, it's too late to stop smoking now. I'm guaranteed death at a early age.

I sighed, chucking the fully loaded carton across the room to give the busted phone some company. I don't think I'll ever see this the same again... this strangers ruined this for me, and for that... I despise her.