betelgeuse.

woke.

I plopped up on my bed. It had been 11:03 p.m. when I decided that I could no longer take anymore of this drastic pounding in my head. Now at 11:18, had only 15 minutes passed of which I had called it a night. What for exactly? I’m not sure. Sleep? No. Rest? Ha. The thought seemed such a fond memory. If I could call anything since August sleep, coma would be the more suitable word. Nothing had quite been the same since August. It spread like wild fire, this disease. It grew and spit back at me. Such a silly girl, you thought you’d have it all figured out? No, not at all, but it did all make more sense in head. The mind has such a funny way to play tricks on you. When you’re up late at night and sleep crawls upon you. Do you think its just sleep, rest, dreams? Perhaps more. I’m no rocket scientist and I don’t have any sort of degree to back up my claims, the lack of there of could just be paying my dues. And for the record, lets just say I’d rather be kept awake. Because awake is where he is. He. Who is he? I promise I’m not talking about some supernova entity. He isn’t too kind to me at this point, he’s not my biggest fan, not by a long shot. But when I say he, I mean the boy who saved me time and time again, the one whose heart I shriveled up. To make it cliche, the one who got away. Why’d he get away? Because I was too busy fucking up what “we” could’ve been. YOU DUMBASS! This is probably where you’d stop reading, in case you hadn’t done so already. But I promise this isn’t some mellow drama where the girl gets bitter about her beloved ex. No my dear reader, this story is not as shallow nor as simple. She’s not the kindhearted girl you’ll have some sort of sympathy for. She’s a lover of life, she knows the good accompanies the bad. She doesn’t die from a broken heart, at least I hear its impossible. And by she, I mean me, Alissa Marie. This is my story. Where I let the guy I love down, throwing it away in a thrust of pelvic region with none other than my beloveds cousin. YOU WHORE! As if that dear term hadn’t been spit at me, ravaging mad like the pounding headache that just wouldn’t let me sleep. So bare with me as we go down a sweet, sweet summers day..