Angel of Death - Johnnie Guilbert

Chapter 6: Broken Bong

I couldn't do it. I couldn't go in his room. I couldn't face him, the anxiety in my veins was too much.

I stayed in my room for the rest of the day.

And the day after.

And the day after.

It was nearing midnight, 3 days since I last spoke to Johnnie, 3 days since that embarrassing stream.

Every single day had been spent in my room, burrying myself in work and sleep.

I've been working on new youtube videos mainly, but also been designing new merch and jewelry for the little brand I had.

Other than that, i've pretty much just been getting really high— too high, and then listening to Johnnies music staring at the ceiling.

Well, either that or sleeping.

I tried my best to not think about it— or him, but it was extremely difficult when every little thing reminded me of him.

Not to mention, my normal daily routine consists of being beside the guy, at almost every moment.

Also not to mention, I still lived with him, hell, his bedroom was right beside mine.

I've only bumped into him once, luckily.

I was walking out of my room to use the bathroom when he also came out of his the same time. I never closed my bedroom door so fast.

Tara tried to get me to speak to him a bunch of times, saying the world would end if we stopped talking, but I knew we would end up best friends again soon.

After 20 years of friendship it was impossible for us to not stay together.

It was weird though.

We've only fought a few times, each one only lasting a couple hours, the longest one however was a full week, and I wanted to keep it that way.

Jakes been bugging me to go out with him, just to go anywhere out of the house, as he noticed I stopped leaving my room.

I also knew he knew about me and Johnnie randomly not talking, I assumed he pesters Johnnie about it the same way Tara pesters me.

Beside from Tara and Jake, to my knowledge, nobody else knew about the sudden distance between us.

This whole thing is so stupid. Can't he just come to my room and tell me whats bothering him already?

I light the bong, sitting on the steps of the patio of the backyard.

Normally i'd just smoke a joint with the window cracked, but I wanted fresh air and my neglected bong was crying for me.

As I took a rip, it hit my lungs hard. I kept going, I craved a strong high.

I took more and more hits, until I felt my ears ring.

Fuck.

Why the fuck are my eats ringing?

I placed the glass down, my eyes squeezed shut, the hits caught up to me. I rubbed and pushed down on my eyes with the palms of my hand, and focused on my breathing since I realized how fast my heart was beating.

I opened my eyes, and the world was spinning, it felt like I had 5 heads and they all got hit with a metal baseball bat.

Fuck, am I greening?

Food. Food always helps..

maybe I shouldn't have smoked on an empty stomach.