9:02pm. The neon city
lights bounce off her windowsill and cast dancing shadows across her room. The
uneven musty wooden floors hold dirty piles of clothing, glittery heels and
last night’s Thai takeaway. Her neighbours from the apartment above her were
playing music loudly, the thumping beats pillowing down through the
floorboards. Her blanket was sodden with white wine that she had spilt trying
to climb into bed. Her hands were sticky. Like honey. She resisted the urge to
run her fingers through her hair. It felt like 90 degrees in her dark room. Her
tear-stained face held many secrets. She sighed as her fire-red fingernails
traced the dusty windowsill.
She’d gotten much more
intoxicated than she’d originally anticipated. Navigating her way through
another monotonous day, only to come home in-time to watch the news. She ordinarily
endeavored to avoid the news. The fear inducing nature of the programme often
darkened her heart. Hearing about the negativity gripping the globe
instantaneously brought down her mood. But this one day, she had decided to
watch it. Oh, what a gaffe that was. From the threat of a world war to Trump’s
hate acts against transgender people, she’d slipped into a hole of negativity
that only $3 white wine could fix. After pouring 4 rather full drinks in her
borrowed wine glasses, she’d become a sobbing mess of a girl. Three regrettable
texts to a painful past later, she had found herself laid upon her unmade bed.
Alone. She felt oh so alone in this world. It didn’t matter that simply three
stories beneath her was a thriving bustling city full of life. The neon shadows
in her dark room made everything feel surreal. Like she was in a tainted dream
state. She lay her head down on her baby pink silk pillow and wept silently.
This was why she avoided the news.
x
