ESTROGEN

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LIFE'S A CUTE BITCH FILLED WITH ESTROGEN.

Do you know what it's like to suddenly absorb the power that was always held against you? To hold different souls inside the palm of your hand and know that you're not passing it off to somewhere else, that if you wanted to destroy them you had the ability to do so. Crush and control, sculpt and mold. As I sat in my living room, high off of weed and mushrooms, a bottle of White Zin hugged between my thighs, I was shown the truth. The reality. The universe and that I was another god within the galaxies with solar winds in my blood and stars tacking themselves against my pores.

I have the power to control, I do not only have to be controlled.

I have the power to ruin, I do not only have to be ruined.

I have the power to dictate, I do not only have to be dictated.

I have the power to create my own future.

My world crumbles, but I have the power to fix it.

She's stumbling outside the bar with a few friends, skinny little thing. It's Vintage, actually. Isn't there a sense of beauty in the irony? Our love bloomed, and now another one will. She's different from the rest; I can say this after spending every night for nearly a month drinking at their outside seating, watching as people drifted their way through the city. No one stood out like she does, her smile the joy in her eyes the positivity in her actions. She reminds me of myself, before I was twisted up and left alone in the gutter. Before I lost my innocence.

She has a cigarette between her fingers, but she doesn't smoke. After a few puffs an a face full of repulse, she drops it against the sidewalk. Nearly steps over it, nearly.

Once they're a distance away I pick up the half smoked cig and put it against my lips. Inhale. Cherry lipstick with a menthol twist. My exact type. We have that in common. I drop the cigarette, stomp on it, and move forward.

She's loud with her friends, having the time of her life despite only being around two other people. They're drunk as well, just as loud. I would've hated to be around them if I wasn't aware of the potential one of them held. Soulmate. What could be better than being my soulmate? I make lives better, give my entire heart. I'm one of a lost breed, thought to be long dead with the idea of romance. She doesn't realize that I can change her life, make it for the better. But she will.

I drop my phone, start wailing like a drunk bitch who doesn't know any better. "Oh, fuck!" I whimper twice, the kind you fell for millions of times before, Joe. "Oh no, no no noooo. Fuck, nooo."

She turn around despite her friends, who were hellbent on ignoring me. Heh.

"You good?" She has a slight accent that didn't belong around here. She's polite, I can hear the care in her voice. She isn't a New Yorker, she isn't like you.

"No," I whine. I come into the light of the streetlight closest towards them and I hear her friends sigh in relief, laughing at their paranoid. I'm just a normal girl down on her luck. Another pretty girl who got too drunk to bring herself home. She takes my phone and tries to turn it on like I didn't think of trying it before, like I didn't smash it to the point that it could never turn on again.

"Shit, I think it's dead." She frowns, and her friends ease closer. Clueless deers coming towards to a hunter who held out a palm of feed, the other hand holding a gun. I take the phone and think of you and sob, my face falling in shame like I'm facing your smirking expression. "Oh, no. Oh, shit. My Uber was on there, fuck I don't know the area. Fuck, I-..." I sob and this is because of you, Joe. I wouldn't be able to act so well if you didn't give me material to base it of off, I want you to think about this.

She looks back at her friends. They're unsure, wary. They're not as trusting as she is. "Hey, where you going?" My ears perk. "I can help you home, honestly I think we're just as lost." She turns towards her friends, and I smile in gratitude.

Famous last words.

HIM .. Joe GoldbergWhere stories live. Discover now