The Opposites

You know what I'm realizing? None of us were happy. Not ever, not once. We were all miserable, all the time, from the very beginning.

We reminisce on the old days because we weren't as miserable, nobody but a few of us had experienced immediate friends or family death before. We could still lie to ourselves and say that our drinking was normal, our drug use was normal, and our lifestyle was normal.

We could still say fuck it, I'll take care of that tomorrow. We still had a lot left to experience and do in life, and we didn't think it was going to suck just yet.

But happy? No, the emptiness in each of our eyes glinted like a reverse hallmark card. We all saw it in each other, and knew. I think that's what kept us together as long as it has, did, and will. I think that's what society fails to grasp about anyone that isn't them or doesn't fit into the narrative required of us to line up and dress right dress to.

Sometimes one person's normal is the opposite, and we are those opposites. The ones that have to stay quiet or lie when someone asks us if we're okay, or how we met someone, or what makes us friends. We know, but we never talk about it because the stigma of silence spreads beyond the public spaces and into the closed doors where we would drown our sorrows until we could let a mismanaged sliver of the shit that was burning us alive out of our souls.

We reminisce on the old days, because we had people to reminisce with.

Including ourselves.

The emptiness that bonded us together has managed to kill nearly every single person in a 6 block radius, has managed to put us into shitty relationships with shitty people consistently, has thrown us into association with the most slippery of shit bags that exist who we thought were our friends until we needed them most and found ourselves abandoned.

Then we would always come back to each other, and then one day we couldn't.

Must be nice bonding over anything that isn't the only thing that you can think about because everyday it fucking eats you alive.

You want to tell somebody so bad, but you've experienced so much negative feed back when you do or have.. that all you have is that shitty yet fucking beautiful glint of damage, hopelessness, and the fractured emptiness in eyes that in a few short years will close forever... If you're lucky.

If you're like me, you look around and suffocate in front of a room in your apartment, a hometown street, a local bar, or bodega full of ghosts. The emptiness consumes you, and you destroy yourself some more but now? Now you're all alone.

I miss you guys. SM - SE - KE - MM - MS - D - and the one who got away.