The way back home

I finally left that sweltering club. My mom would kill me if she saw my condition and clothes... I'll be sick again. Besides, it doesn't matter in the slightest.

And what's there to be afraid of? The Planty Park isn't that dangerous at night... Damn! It's not night anymore, it's morning again. 4. I hate birdsong in the morning. I hate the lighter color of the eastern sky at this hour. I hate coming home at dawn. I hate falling asleep in the early morning hours when the first trams are already passing outside. Especially when I know tomorrow will be the same as today.

That's why I won't promise now... (even though it's on my lips) that I won't drink anymore. I won't repeat it like yesterday, the day before, and the week before.

I think it rained, my shoes are wet... I don't like this street. I don't like walking home along it.

And why did he even say that? After a year of silence, suddenly, when I'd truly stopped caring and had come to terms with the fact that he'd treated me like any random whore, he spoke up. No one asked him to now!

I could write a story about this, about this whole situation... but I don't feel like it. Certainly not today. Besides, I don't want to invent a whole new fabrication, an artificial plot, just to unleash my emotions, to perpetuate my dream. Oh no. I don't want to dream about him ever again.

God. I'm doing it again. I think about him. When things were so good. When...

I need a drink. I still have some change left.

So what, baby? Tymbark, as usual, in the morning. And one for the night... hahaha! "Night." For a "good night's sleep," I guess, idiot.

Why do my lips sting so much...? It's true. He's a different man. Think about it, woman, how can you use people like that? Your friends. No. You only drink with them. They know nothing about you. NOTHING. So they're not friends.

Not 15 minutes ago, you were standing there with "the other guy," listening to him talk about his bad day. He was throwing out snatches of sentences, names, nicknames, but you knew what he meant. You know his friends, you've spent a lot of time with them these past few months. You had a hard day too. A very hard day. So what? Exactly. Nothing. He turned around and walked to the bus stop, barely apologizing for not walking you today. He doesn't care about you. So what if you're capable of hurting him more than anyone else. So what if he trusts you if you don't trust him. If you can't count on him. Well, he's never let me down. But he never had the time.

And he doesn't know anything about you, little girl. Nothing. Maybe he's already learned that you're not just any ordinary girl, that you're very different from everyone else. But he doesn't know why. He doesn't know the people you spend most of your time with. He doesn't even know that he means nothing to you. Maybe he thinks differently.

This will backfire! Hahaha!

Is this another big fight? They smashed the windows in that store. Again. What a massacre... I wonder if my shoes will get ruined if I walk over that glass...

"I really care about you." And I don't. I don't care about anything anymore. You taught me that! Yes, you do! Oh no. I don't blame you. But I see what you're doing. "Every girl has a bitch inside her. And once in her life, she has to act like one." You confirm it every step of the way. And you're probably right. Fucking right...!

But why is it that guys can "meet their needs" with impunity, and when a girl does it, she's a slut who will give to anyone. Not just anyone. Only to whoever she likes. That's what separates us from you guys. The rulers of the world. It's good to know that our breasts and asses rule the world.

And you, "people I drink with," be afraid. Once you become those famous rappers, once you've recorded albums, once you're so sought after that you forget about me, then... Ugh... and you know damn well, you fool, you won't do anything with that knowledge. Unless it's in "self-defense." But you won't have to defend yourself. They can't hurt you. They can't, because they don't know what's hurting you.

I have to buy those headphones. Every time I cross the street here, I wonder when they'll catch me and give me a ticket.

I hope my sister isn't home. There'll be more spitting. Besides, I don't care. It's not my fault I have four months of vacation, and she still has to wait a while. A self-righteous, selfish woman who can't see beyond the tip of her nose... no.

I won't think about her.

Toxic world. All my friends. Everything. At least that's what I see. There are no people I associate with selflessly. But there are also no people I don't associate with solely for material gain. Without people, I'd die.

Single. No, I'm not single, because they're happy being alone. I'm not alone. I'm lonely in a crowd of friends, acquaintances, buddies, and strangers. People to whom I'm a stranger.

And I don't believe that will ever change.

Exactly, idiot. You're not wonderful, extraordinary, or cool enough for anyone to want to get to know you better, to put up with your moods and sulks, to break down all those walls to polish a diamond that... hahahaha! Me, a diamond...?! Never. More like a mere pebble floating in the river, soon to become nothing more than grains of sand.

Hmm... I'm sober now! Why won't that key fit in the lock?

So what are we doing tomorrow? Another party. No problem. I just need to figure out something about the money, because she's starting to run out too.

Jesus, just don't let her bark today! Or maybe she should bark. She's the only one who still notices me.

I think I'm a little crazy. Schizophrenia? I'm talking to myself.

What are you? You're not crazy. You're unhappy, little one. And don't think that'll ever change.

I think I'll fall asleep right away, I don't have to put on a movie.

Goodnight, little one.

No. I'm not "little one." He used to call me that. But he stopped. Because I wasn't worth it. Not even this...