Cracked Porcelain

October 1.

Thick clouds of cigarette smoke poured through my nostrils as I slowly exhaled. Don't fucking judge me I'm quitting I just really needed a damn cigarette right now. Disregard that fact that I'm only eighteen and I've been "quitting" for the past four years. I took another long drag as I noted my surroundings. One main thing was running through my mind,

Where the fuck am I?

Shit this was bad. I mean don't get me wrong I've woken up in some pretty messed up situations but at least I woke up with a naked girl by my side or pal to help me pick of the pieces. Last night I made the mistake of flying solo. It turns out people my age don't like to party on Tuesday nights, but I say every night is a party night! Fuck chocolate, life is like Ecstasy you never know what you're gonna get when you wake up in the morning.

Back to my big question, where the fuck am I?As soon as I pried open my heavy eyelids the world around me started spinning like one of those plastic kids toys. You know, the kind you twist and it just keeps going and going until finally it just tips over? I feel like I might just tip over. I was slouched up against some grimy brick wall and from the numbness of my ass and the ache in my back it was clear as day,which is blinding the shit outta me, that I'd been in this position for quite some time. The air around me smelt like dirty underwear and stale cigarette smoke. I grimaced praying to whatever god there is that the smell was coming from the dumpsters near by and not me. I came to the conclusion that I was in some alley downtown. I didn't live too far from here.

I took another drag of my dwindling cigarette.

I pushed myself up and stumbled into the sun light. I did a quick once-over checking for any broken bones or new surprise tattoos. I was a little nerves for this self examination but for the most part I checked out okay. My hair felt oily, I smelt like a cheap perfume, my arms were covered in small bruises, I was missing a shoe and there was a drum-line preforming in my head but I figured I'd survive. At least I wasn't dead, right? Take note of my sarcasm.

I inhaled the last of my cigarette, tossing the butt of it behind me.

My hands roamed in and out of my clothes pockets until finally after reaching into my wrinkled sweater pocket I found what I was looking for: my black shades. I shoved those bad boys on and wandered around until I found a friend nice enough to give me a ride. Well, he wasn't exactly what one would call a friend, he sometimes bought drugs from my roommate but what difference does it make? I had the guy drop me off at a coffee shop, Sip It, not too far from my home in exchange for an I-Owe-You that I'd probably never repay.

I ordered black coffee. I was a few dollars short but the chick at the counter knew me and "loaned" me the money. We drunkenly made out at a party once and I never told her boyfriend. She thinks I'll rat on her so she helps me out here and there so I'll keep my mouth shut. I barely even remember the night in question but apparently she doesn't know that.

I took a seat by the window and began to partake in my favorite activity besides drinking: people watching. Sometimes I just bum around and observe. You'd be surprised the kind of stuff you pick up when watching a stranger's mannerisms. Your mouth may tell lies but your body language is bullshit free. For instance right outside the window there was a couple making out but the girl kept her eyes open and focused on a business man reading the paper. The relationship was coming to an end but the poor chump was too busy with his eyes closed to notice. Then there was the little boy walking with his family across the street. He couldn't take his eyes off his twin sister's barbie doll and paid no attention to the action figure in his own hands. Then the girl sitting just two tables away from me had too many cuts on her wrist to be an accident but she laughed alone with the rest of her clueless friends. Many people came and went within the hour. All of them looking but not seeing. None held any particular importance to me but all were hiding something.

And then there was a familiar looking blonde coming out of the used bookstore from across the street. She was beautiful, more so than any plastic doll could ever be. Her long legs covered by denim jeans, petite form and small breast shielded by an oversize sweater. Despite her deluding allure I knew she was hiding something. We all are.

I remembered her, how could anyone really forget, she caught my attention a few weeks ago. Correction, we caught each others attention. I didn't mean to look at her in particular, at least not really. She was staring at me long before I even tossed a glance in her direction but nonetheless we stood there trying to figure each other out. Her blank stare sent icy chills down my back and in that moment she seemed so empty and I saw her like everyone else: some perfect glass doll that would crack at the slightest touch. But there had to be more to her. There was always more. It was then that I decided she had to be mine.

I snapped out of my faded thoughts to realize my pretty little doll was gone.