It was never enough to just stay home. We had to go out; make appearances, take pictures, etc. I was tired. I could practically feel my pores clogging from the caked on makeup. The underwire of my bra dug into my chest.
And what was I there for? To attract another guy, who was probably tripping on acid too hard to even fucking notice the masterpiece I had created on my fucking eyelids. And then what? He’d stick his tongue down my throat and exchange numbers with me? Or worse. He’d try to get me into a nearby bedroom. #YOLO
I hate my generation. It was more bearable when I was inebriated, coked up, or on so much ecstasy that people were just soft and cuddly. Now they are plain irritating. Being sober amongst my friends is straight up embarrassing. They can’t stand up, they’re puking, they’re crying, they’re humping a couch. I honestly can’t believe their behavior.
I lit another cigarette outside the house because, well honestly because I thought it made me look cool. Or rather, I guess I started smoking because I thought it looked cool and now I may or may not have a crippling addiction to nicotine. I counted in my head all the people I knew who were under 18 and addicted already. Huh. The generation of Dubstep and lung cancer. Fun.
It could only be so much longer that I could enjoy my cigarette before one of my friends started puking again. I was the hair holder and designated driver. Oh and I get to take their nose rings out too when they get too nasty. Why am I clinging on to this? I don’t need to be here… it’s just the only place I know.
#prose #creative writing #rejectscorner #spilled ink
I'm Hannah. And I like to write because it gives me an excuse to be insane. Enjoy.
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