"I've found something worth feeling for." It's him. It has always been him.
***
Dakota wants nothing more than to be numb.
She's lost grip of all she has ever loved. At least that's how she ha...
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Walking out with half the mental capacity I have when I'm sober, I try to take simple steps out of my room without the pounding ache inside my head.
Blowing out I breathe. I witness everyone's hungover states.
Some laying on the couch, others sporadically in the kitchen. But in all, they have most things in common. They all look and are groaning like they've just been resurrected from the dead. And I can't say I feel differently.
Well, I mean everyone seems that way except Wyatt. That lucky bastard. I assume he spent most of the party babysitting me anyways.
"Yup, all of us must have caught a strange bug, so we won't be in today." Wyatt's childhood acting- if you can even call being a nepotism baby that- shines as he proceeds to fake cough into his phone's speaker. "Well, thanks again, Nalia. Mhm. Bye."
As I furrow a brow, Wyatt finally looks up from his just ended call. "Who was that?"
"The office."
"You- you told them we were sick?"
"What? You didn't think you could go to class hungover today, did you?" His expression makes me feel all but a person with the IQ of 160.
I open my mouth to speak, but I don't have an answer. So once again Wyatt has left me at a loss of words. Though, this time for different reasons.
Sighing irritatedly, he waves his hand around as if I am a child. "Go lay down, philomath. I'll check on you once, I lay the rest of the cast of The Walking Dead down with some Advil and water. I don't assume you want me to tuck you in?" He raises an eyebrow at the last part, as if he's tempting me to challenge him.
Did he really just pull out greek?
Maybe I am seriously as hungover as he says I am, because 'philomath'? Seriously? Who is this pretentious man in front of me?
I don't even bother to argue with him as I make my steps back towards my room.
-
Walking back into my room, I want nothing more than to drop to the bed. The white walls, sheets, closet. All of it a blur of familiar blandness.
I am a more than thankful to have not decorated, now that I don't have to witness bright straining colors in my lucid state of post-most of a bottle of vodka .
Stripping off my jeans, I hope Wyatt doesn't decide this is the perfect time to 'check on me'.
God, who does he think he is? Actually, who does he think I am?
I've lived before I started existing.
Yes. I meant existing. Because most days that's all it is. Much to Link's dismay if he was here I assume .
I used to party every weekend. I had a family, a social life, friends. I was different from what I am now.
I just try to be anything further from that girl than possible now of days.
