23, teacher, vegetable and cat enthuasist, from AUS and living in the UK
The thought of leaving this side of the world sends my stomach into knots and makes my eyes prickle.
That summer I felt like I was being suffocated; the air was thick with humidity and the smell of the trees outside your house made me giddy. January 13, the date loomed. Conversations were like tip toeing blindly down a flight of stairs; everyone knows that the 4th stair creaks but sometimes you forget.
That summer I rolled cigarettes on the steps near the side door of your house as I sipped whiskey and dry. You always made mine a little stronger because you knew I liked it that way. I think you just liked to see me with a warm stomach, smiling. Sweat trickled down the backs of my legs and I had purple socks on.
That summer I started taking my medication. One night I hung out with your friends because you were busy and I didn’t want to be alone. I never found it hard to make friends but I wanted you to be proud of me. This night, I didn’t succeed.
That summer I sat on an empty street at 1am and begged someone to fix me and you didn’t know what to do. It was that sadness that comes from your stomach and leaves through every exhale, making you feel empty. You stood there and said some words I don’t remember. You finally grabbed my hand, while the serotonin gushed from my brain and left me lifeless on the ground. You took me home.
In the morning our flight of stairs had several new creaks and no one wanted to climb them anymore.