I've always had a feeling that I would die young. Ever since I started pondering on deaths door I've had this feeling. I could care less about the hell and heaven shenanigans, but death. I want it. The end of my life.
I want to be in my suit, in my...
Ουπς! Αυτή η εικόνα δεν ακολουθεί τους κανόνες περιεχομένου. Για να συνεχίσεις με την δημοσίευση, παρακαλώ αφαίρεσε την ή ανέβασε διαφορετική εικόνα.
Nothing's new. My life is a continuous cycle. Wake up, get high. Go to school, get high. Come back home, get high. Go to bed. Repeat.
I feel like I'm always in Neveah's bedroom or in my car doing something I shouldn't be doing. And the only reason I'm doing it is because it helps me get out of this cycle for a good few hours. It gives me energy.
And now I'm hoping Nida will help me get out of this cycle. I don't necessarily want to rely on her to make me happy, but she's my only hope.
"Why is Times Square so packed?" I complain, looking down at my car that's parked on the side of the road from the building that is under construction. Nida glances at the time on her phone before looking at me with her usual smug look. "The Hamptons isn't this bad."
I turn around, looking at her with a smile. "Noah, can we please go down?" She says, staying as far away from the ledge as she possibly can.
I laugh, climbing onto the ledge. "Noah!" She yells, watching me stand up. I stare down at the busy area, wondering what would happen if I fall. Obviously, I'll splat like a water balloon, but what will happen to the people down below. How would they react? Would Nida take my car?
She looks at me with worry in her eyes. "Please, step away from the ledge." I drop my shoulders and tilt my head. I lift one leg, sticking it out as I wobble. "If you're going to kill yourself, at least let me go down so I can be far away from the crime scene."
I stick my hands out on my side, keeping my balance as I walk the ledge. "I'm not going to kill myself." I laugh, stepping closer to the edge before I sit down facing her.
She crosses her arms over her chest, shivering which is weird since it's only negative three degrees Celsius. All I've got is a t-shirt, long jeans since it's colder than usual and a single sleeve on my left arm to hide my bruised arm from all the needles. It's annoying to have fabric against my skin, but it's what I have to do to avoid the questions on what happened. Some will assume I'm some street addict.
"So," I sigh, staring at her as I think about just falling backwards. "When can I start calling you my girlfriend?" My cheeks heat up, knowing how much she hates when I call her that. I just enjoy teasing her. "Never." She responds.
I stand back up on the edge, watching her body tense up. It's almost as if she cares. It makes my heart flutter. "I don't let guys who's arms are the size of my wrists call me their girlfriends."
I let out a chuckle, picking up my arm to flex it. Every muscle that hides when I relax appears. The hem of my shirt tightens against my right arm. The veins and dents appear before I quickly put it away. Her eyebrows are up, surprised, but quickly wipes it away when she sees my smile. "Now can I can I call you my girlfriend?"
She thinks for a minute before she shakes her head. "Can you call me your boyfriend?" A laugh comes from her when I say that. My heart flutters and my stomach does this weird flip when I hear her. It's weird. It makes me want to throw up.
