Finally, everything wasn't so blurry any more. I looked around me. Where was I? Outside? Holy shit! I'm outside! I looked around. I was on a side walk near a dark alley. For some reason, I went through the alley because I was curious. I screamed
"Can someone help me out here?!" but there was no answer. No one can hear me. If they can't hear me, no one can see me either. I sighed. How long will this last? How long does it take to remember who I am? There was a boy who looked like he was about 18 standing by a corner. He had black hair which came to his eyes. I can see him shivering. He went through his jacket pocket and took out a cigarette and started smoking. He looked so pale and skinny. I kept staring at him. I had nothing better to do anyways. After he was done, he fell to the floor. I can see he was trying hard not to cry. But eventually he did start crying. After he was done, he got up and started walking out the alley. I followed him. He entered a door to a house.
"J-Josh?" what? Josh? It seems so familliar? Wait, when I woke up, I woke up with someone screaming Josh.
"Yeah mom?" the boy answered looking up at her.
"Are you..okay?" she asked the boy. He had no expression on his face what so ever.
"Yeah mom." He said giving her a smile. I can tell it was fake. "I'm going to my room." he says and walks away. I look at the boy's mom. She looks so sad. I went into the room with the boy.
He closed the door and fell to the ground and started crying again. I couldn't stand seeing him. I went over to his desk. A blade on the table with a notebook that has his name on it.
"Josh Ramsay." I said to myself. Wait, Josh. I looked at him. He went up to the table and took the blade. He sat on his bed and pulled up his sleeve. Shit, he wasn't going to do it was he? He peirced the blade into his skin and dragged it across his skin. Blood coming out. I couldn't watch anymore.
"I don't want to live anymore." the boy said crying. I looked down at my arm. It started itching. I pulled my sleeve up and saw white lines, everywhere. What the fuck? I also saw a tattoo. Two lines and one in the middle. I looked over at the boy and looked back at my arm. I instantly ran to the mirror in the boy's bedroom. I can see myself. I have blue and blonde hair and my eyes are green and blue. I looked at the boy. He looked the same. Everything rushed back to me. I'm Josh Ramsay. Former heroin addict. I wanted to cry. This can't be happening. I used to cut myself. I screamed and cried to let it out. These memories always haunt me. I closed my eyes and thought of everything. All I know is I'm Josh Ramsay. The woman outside was my mom. I was bulimic and I was a self harmer too. I started shaking. When I opened my eyes I was back in the purple and smokey place. I kept thinking of everything, about my past.
I let my head drop into my hands. What have I done? I don't know anything else about me! I don't want these memories! I screamed more to myself. Why is this happening to me? Then I remembered something. A song. A song I wrote while I was in therapy. I sang it aloud, so that I can let it out.
"This place is a hole, and I don't want to go.
I wish we could stay here forever alone.
This time that we waste, but i still love your taste.
Don't let him take my place, don't just sit there.
Sometimes I wish you would leave me.
Well I'm not sick of you yet, is this as good as it gets,
I'll just say it, or i could slip into you, its so easy to come back into you.
I stand for awhile, and waited for words,
Seemed to not hurt and struggled to try.
My tongue's turning black, but I'll take you back.
You're still the best more or less, I guess.
I guess.
Don't you leave me, well I'm not sick of you yet, is that as good as it gets,
I'll just say it, or I could slip into you, its so easy to come back into you.
It hurts me to say that it hurts me to stay.
And it might be alright if you go.
It hurts me to say that I want you to stay, but it might be alright if you go.
So leave me, well I'm not sick of you yet, is that as good as it gets.
I'll just try to hide it, or I could slip into you, it's so easy to come back into you.
Sometimes I think that the bitter in you, and the quitter in me, is the bitter in you and the quitter in me.
The bitter in you, and the quitter in me, is the bitter in you and the quitter in me.
The bitter in you, and the quitter in me, is the bitter in you and the quitter in me,
is better than the both of us."
I kept crying. This was too much for me to handle.
