Beautiful/Terrible

“The world is a beautiful terrible place,” I replied.
“Beautiful and terrible just like us,” he said finally. This was the end of our discussion and so I stared at him and he stared at the world. Allen.
I marveled at the way his nose was too strong for his face and his eyes were too small and it was amazing, and I peered at his dark purple patches that swelled beneath his eyes, and I gazed at his orange freckles that fled across his under eye and cheeks. Under eye. I could see the stubble sprouting from his shaven head. He was beautiful and it was terrible and so I stopped my thoughts by kissing him. Hard.
I felt his lips move against me and felt his death and mine intertwine and I was reminded that the world was beautiful and terrible and so I stopped. I looked into his eyes. One eye blue, the other brown. They reflected back on me and I knew that they saw me for who I really was and I hated that but I needed it.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he breathed out. I smiled.
This was us.
This was beautiful and terrible.
A few hours later after the sun went down and we walked back from the field to the car. It was this field behind a middle school where high schoolers went to have bonfires and fuck on the weekend but on the weekdays it was our paradise. It was basically a barren wasteland with cold, hard-packed dirt and sparse yellow grass. Dead trees and evergreens lined the perimeter, and a dank parking lot lay over to the south side. There was a crappy strip of metal bleachers looking onto nothing and we would often lay flat on our back on them. And we would scream. Or laugh. Or embrace silence. There was always trash and that was good. Everything was good.
It was windy out and cold but I wore a bralette and an open flannel shirt any way. I liked the way the feeling passed through me. I felt my nipples harden against the autumn wind. The seasons would be changing soon.
Allen wore a leather jacket and white tee. He liked to think he was a badass and to me he was. He was Allen.
I stared at his back as I followed him to his dark green minivan. I kicked a pebble along the way before I lost it when it ricocheted off the parking lot curb. Allen looked back at me at the clackey noise.
“What?” I asked. The question was a little stupid considering I knew that the noise had caused him to look back. We clasped hands and continued along through the small parking lot until we got to the car. When my hand glossed across the cold, smooth handle of the car I shivered. I grazed it again for a moment before yanking it to the side and watching it seamlessly follow suit before pausing, stop.
I stepped into the minivan and lay across the seats. I always did this as compared to riding shotgun. I stared at the roof of the car and the eyes I had painted on stared back. I closed my eyes.
Though I saw nothing I sensed the world. I heard Allen get into the front seat and sigh, turn the ignition. I felt the fabric of the seat under my fingers. The familiar scent of cigarettes and mint permanently stained the innards of the vehicle. I could taste the words as I said them, “Fuck off, I love you.”
“Fuck you, I know,” Allen said. I smiled and fluttered open my eyes. I felt life wash over me and it felt like sickness. I bit my lip and tasted my flesh as I licked over the same place. Then Allen started pulling out of the parking space and I felt the vibrations of the road beneath me. I closed my eyes again. Again.
Allen pulled into the driveway of my suburban dystopia- my house. I captured him in a brief kiss before I scampered out of the car and ran to the side of my two-story home. I tread along the perimeter of the light blue vessel until I found myself under the harsh light that adorned the white door. I quickly looked inside the window to make sure nobody was still downstairs. It made things easier when everyone was subdued and complacent in their rooms when sneaking back in.
I quietly made my way to the chimney. On the side of it there was this iron ladder-like thing that was meant for ivy to grow on, but for me it was for sneaking in and out of the house. I silently hauled myself to the top of the first floor and reached out for the bottom of my bedroom window. Here came the real tricky part. I kept my hands on the sill as I gently and purposefully walked my feet up the side of the chimney before I couldn’t get my legs any higher without risk of falling. I then tried to take the outward leg and bring it up to the sill, in the meantime taking the corresponding hand and bringing it to the top of the window to get more leverage. Once successful, I silently thrust myself inside and was victorious.
I turned back and closed the window, locking it behind me. I then went to my bedroom door and unlocked it. I turned off the light and fell onto my bed. I examined.
White walls. White carpet. Wooden furniture painted white. White duvet. I smiled. White teeth.
I stared up at the man-made galaxy, stuck up on the ceiling and formed in its own plastic eternity. My dad put up little glow-in-the-dark star stickers up there when I was seven. I never let him take them down. They reminded me of how small and unexciting I was, and that was beautiful and terrible. Blink. I open my eyes to find the world the same as just before. How depressing.
I felt my phone vibrate in the back pocket of my skinny jeans and took it out. A text from Lexi: “Goodnight whore ;)”. I chuckled lightly before responding: “See you on the flip side”. The flip side. I stretched and got up out of my room. I could hear pop music coming out from underneath my younger sister Ronnie’s door. I rolled my eyes and went downstairs.
Upon arriving in the kitchen I took the orange juice out of the fridge and took a sip out of it. Then I took my medications out of the cabinet and stared them down. 20 mg of Prozac. 2 mg of Abilify.
“Looking at them isn’t gonna make them go away,” my mom said to me as she entered the room. I let out a half-hearted laugh. I snatched them and downed them fast. And turned to my mom with my tongue out. “See?” I said, “I took them.”
“That’s good but it would be great if you actually took them in the morning when you’re supposed to.”
“They fuck me up when I take them in the morning,” I said drably before exiting the room.
I made my way back upstairs and went into my sister’s room without knocking.
“Can you please turn that fucking shit down?” I yelled at her, the sound of Selena Gomez tormenting my ears.
“Fuck off, bitch,” she countered.
I sighed and rolled my eyes at her lack of imagination. I ran downstairs and took yet another flight down into the basement. I was met with a dark room that felt like moist air. I flicked the switch and made my way to a cable box that nestled itself in between a bookshelf and wine. I tore out all the wires that clung so tightly into it. I waited. A few moments later I heard thundering footsteps above my head.
“You asshat!” I heard Ronnie running down the stairs toward me. I smiled smugly. She appeared in my vision and I looked down at the mangled wires in my hand.
“Whoops. I guess you won’t be able to listen to your speakers without Wi-Fi. Good thing you have a perfectly fucking silent pair of headphones and a Wi-Fi-free iPod. Smartass,” I concluded.
She gave me a cold stare of hatred and I laughed. Motherfucking right. I licked my lips and brushed past her, making my way back into my room and slamming the door behind me. I was a melodramatic teen and I loved it.
I was met with calming darkness and I walked over to my iPod and took it, not needing the light to know where everything was. I plopped myself onto my bed and turned into the fetal position that I held dear to my heart. I plugged the headphones into my ears and immediately heard the flooding sound of King Park by La Dispute. It was whiny and emotional just like me. I drifted to sleep.