Paper Cranes

“Are you fucking mad?!” Keith shouted as he ducked from the flying glass ashtray that was heading his direction. It missed him and instead it hit the white brick wall and was smashed into two separate pieces.

I glared at him, throwing daggers at him and grabbed the next closest thing to me which was a photo frame and threw it at him. It missed him once again and the frame fell to the floor and the glass was broken into million little pieces. Tears were already streaming down my face as I furiously wiped them away. “I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!” I yelled, hands flying in all directions. “GET OUT OF MY FUCKING APARTMENT!” I pointed at the exit. He didn’t refuse the offer, turned around and walked out of the door.

I was left standing in the middle of my messed up living room. I punched the wall with both my fists and slowly slid onto the floor. I was already sobbing by the time. I hated my life. One second everything seemed to be perfect, and the next everything was down in the drain. I hated it. It was always turned out that way. Never a happy ending. Never a perfect fairytale. Everything was just a horror story.

I lay down on the floor. My hands wrapped around my body as I felt myself slipped into a world of darkness which was filled with prickly thorns and nothing else. Every single one of the thorns represented a human, an event that was bound to prick my skin and make me bleed. I lay there, paralyzed. Numb. Everything seemed odd to me. It was as if my living room belonged to someone else. My couch was not chosen by me but by someone else. The photographs on the walls were some other person with her friends and family, not me.

I lay still that night on the living room floor. Tears flowing non-stop from my bloodshot eyes as I loose myself. It couldn’t be stopped. I was just spiraling down the hell hole. Losing my identity. Losing myself. Letting go of my grip on the only thread that I had been holding on all my life.