Sequel: Elysian ›
Status: In Progress
Restless Insomniacs
Yale.
The flower is small and white with a long dark green stem. There are thorns and every time I try to adjust my grip on the stem a thorn pokes me and cuts my hand, stinging and bringing blood forward. In the same hand I hold a burning cigarette that is close to burning me and the rose.
I’ve never paid much attention to flowers and all that shit but this flower, this flower had stopped me. Maybe it was the pot I had smoked earlier or maybe it is the fact that I am so drunk I can’t remember which way is up or down. But for some reason I am unable to walk away from this rose.
The cold night air stings my lungs and a part of my brain is telling me to just walk away. Drop the flower, hell stamp on just fucking walk away. But I can’t, because she called me with that little voice of hers asking me to come see her.
And how can I say no?
I can’t, and that is why I am standing at the bottom of the tree outside Daria’s window waiting for a push of courage or something to push me up the tree and to her. I am frozen on the ground holding this stupid flower wondering what that child’s game is, she loves me not?
My sister used to spend hours in my front garden picking daises and making wonderful chains. Each more beautiful then the last, and she would wear them until the flowers started to die. And sure enough when they were all shriveled up she would be in the garden finding new flowers to adorn her bruised face.
Daria asked me something a few days ago and it is still stuck in my head. She had asked under the moonlight lying on the hood of my car holding her frozen drink, “Does it ever get easier?”
“What?” I had asked taking a drag of my cigarette,
“Losing everything” She was drunk and I so was I, but that still didn’t stop the truth from spilling from my lips. As much as I wanted to tell her what she wanted to hear, I needed her to hear my truth more.
“I don’t know, I’m still trying to figure that out” She hadn’t said anything else and I had stood up and walked a few feet away. She smelt like vanilla and flowers and her mascara was just a little smudged and I wanted nothing more than to kiss her, possess her and own her.
I stare up at the large oak tree in front of me bouncing from foot to foot waiting for a sign or something telling me to either climb the fucking tree and see Daria or get the fuck out of here.
The thorns on the rose prick my fingers again and I decide from the lack of anything else that is my sign. With a long sigh and my heavy teeth clutching my cigarette I begin the climb to Daria’s window.
Because how can I say no?
I’ve never paid much attention to flowers and all that shit but this flower, this flower had stopped me. Maybe it was the pot I had smoked earlier or maybe it is the fact that I am so drunk I can’t remember which way is up or down. But for some reason I am unable to walk away from this rose.
The cold night air stings my lungs and a part of my brain is telling me to just walk away. Drop the flower, hell stamp on just fucking walk away. But I can’t, because she called me with that little voice of hers asking me to come see her.
And how can I say no?
I can’t, and that is why I am standing at the bottom of the tree outside Daria’s window waiting for a push of courage or something to push me up the tree and to her. I am frozen on the ground holding this stupid flower wondering what that child’s game is, she loves me not?
My sister used to spend hours in my front garden picking daises and making wonderful chains. Each more beautiful then the last, and she would wear them until the flowers started to die. And sure enough when they were all shriveled up she would be in the garden finding new flowers to adorn her bruised face.
Daria asked me something a few days ago and it is still stuck in my head. She had asked under the moonlight lying on the hood of my car holding her frozen drink, “Does it ever get easier?”
“What?” I had asked taking a drag of my cigarette,
“Losing everything” She was drunk and I so was I, but that still didn’t stop the truth from spilling from my lips. As much as I wanted to tell her what she wanted to hear, I needed her to hear my truth more.
“I don’t know, I’m still trying to figure that out” She hadn’t said anything else and I had stood up and walked a few feet away. She smelt like vanilla and flowers and her mascara was just a little smudged and I wanted nothing more than to kiss her, possess her and own her.
I stare up at the large oak tree in front of me bouncing from foot to foot waiting for a sign or something telling me to either climb the fucking tree and see Daria or get the fuck out of here.
The thorns on the rose prick my fingers again and I decide from the lack of anything else that is my sign. With a long sigh and my heavy teeth clutching my cigarette I begin the climb to Daria’s window.
Because how can I say no?