yes to heaven

♡2♡

"Cinnti, it's 6 already, you're gonna be late. I'm taking your phone when you get home."

Oh my god...

My mom hates being late, hates when I;m late, hates when she's late... I remember her hating my first reconciliation because I lost my paper that my speaking part was on, and had to go through the piles of stuff in my room before we could leave. We walked into the church as Carson Triael read her speaking part, and I had to run down the aisle, all eyes guiding me towards the altar so I could begin the forgiving.

I can't wear something super extra because I'm late, but I always feel hot when I'm wearing someone that looks good. I look through my closet and throw around some clothes from the piles on my floor, and decide on some sweatpants and a purple crop top. Still flattering but comfy. I put my books and nic in my bag and walk out my door, checking the bus times on my phone. 5 minutes until the 70 comes. I put my airpods in and decide on some coco and clair clair. I love feeling girly and light, their music just does it for me.

I will not miss having to do this when I'm gone. I run down the stairs and start walking to the corner. The sun peeks out of the corner of the parking lot across the street, forcing me to cover my eyes. Maybe I can meet the sun when I'm dead. It might be colder on January 16th, but maybe my soul will be warmed by the fire.

Why January 16th? I imagine the date as smooth, light blue and purple, light, glittery, like wearing lace, having a bow in your hair, painting your long nails in a french tip style.

January 16th is peaceful. In the middle of winter, a peaceful season in Chicago. The snow dances and flows down from the sky, the air is smooth and cold.

The card machine beeps as I tap my bus card on the reader, and I walk all the way to the back. I rest my feet on the seat across from me and look out the frosted window. This November has been way too cold, not helping the seasonal depression.

The blue line station comes up, and I pull the string. I walk out of the bus and into the station. I hop the turnstile just because I like to say that in my head, I could pay for it but it's my fun little taste of rebellion. $2.50 is too damn much anyway.

The chilly air blows through my wispy hair as I walk down the platform. I know my brain is gonna force some intrusive thoughts on me, so I look away from the platform. I try and focus on my music. This would never be my way of ending it anyway. Too painful, would traumatize too many people.

"Jump." "Jump! Please just jump just do it," My thoughts say as the El blows down the tracks, "Fucking jump, get it over with." I stare into the tracks as the train rushes over them. I can't, I am naturally a pussy, my brain is hardwired to hate death also. Why can't humans be easier to deal with? I fucking hate having to deal with this decision. I scratch my right arm and pick at the deep scars, peeling off the scabs and feeling the blood start to flow into my jacket...

"Spent the summer having fun...

Finally think I found the one..."