I really need to go crazy. Get stoned, get drunk. Learn to hold my drink. Smoke. Dye my hair permanently purple. Tattoo. Hair cut, bracelets, no more boring baggy blue jeans. Drink. I started yesterday, with a massive craving I could in no way ignore. Snuck downstairs, found the bottle of Bacardi, almost full, which I opened all those months ago. When guys sat at my dining table doing drugs, and I panicked. Found the bottle, dusted it off, two gulps. Three. Put it back and took the stairs two at a time back up to my room. Eyes smarting, throat burning, lips tingling. And I liked it.
I need to stop eating. Lose weight. Lose that belly. I need eyeliner, tight tops. I need to stop caring about exams. Because who gives a fuck, really, how well I do? It's only a short life you've got, do what you want with it. The words of Steve at work. Steve who failed all his exams, but makes thousands with his eyes closed anyway. Do something you love! You’re too young to get stressed, darling! He made me feel so stupid.
I feel like everything is sort of…spiralling out of control. But also as if this is how it's supposed to be. A lover who I haven't loved yet in that sense of the word - hundreds of miles away. Me here. Cuts, maybe, but then I always regret it the day after, so maybe not. But then tomorrow might be the same as today, I might WANT crazy tomorrow, I might want scars and inner emo and all that. Me here, studying for exams so fucking diligently, and not really having much of a life.
Barely seventeen and barely dressed, is how my dreams all go these days. And He is always in them. On top of me, or underneath me. Fucking me, or me fucking him. I will be barely seventeen, and not dressed at all, probably. I will have to get seriously drunk the first time. I want to not be scared about it not working. I want to not care if it hurts. I want the room to spin, I want to squeeze my eyes shut and think, Fuck yes, at long fucking last.
