Tonight Is All There Is (The Maine).

Feeling so low.

I had learnt a few things about the human memory. I knew that sometimes, you couldn't remember something because the link you thought it had with another thing wasn't the right one. For instance, if I wanted to remember the name of the girl I had danced with a couple of months ago by thinking about her vanilla perfume when really she smelt like alcohol, I wouldn't recall her name. Still, if I could remember her hair color and physical appearance, there was a strong chance that I'd have flashbacks of what she had said to me that night and so maybe I'd find her name. My point here being that our senses determined the way we remembered things and how to remember them.

What amazed me was one particular thing. When thinking about nights, I could literally smell trees and humid breeze. I had spent so many nights in a park that the simple thought of the word 'night' made me smell it.

I also knew that when you lived something, a lot of processes transformed it into a memory -including the making of links. Which explained why we remembered almost nothing about our young childhood, we just weren't able to go through all of the processes back then.

Laying on the bench in the park at two in the morning made me remember things I didn't think I could. It had been over a month since I lived the scene that took place before my eyes as my nose smelt the fresh air mixed with trees. Soon, a perfume was added to what I could feel, and then the sound of wind blowing softly through the leaves came to my ears, my eyes still closed. It wasn't windy, my brain just replayed everything that happened that night.

I'm done being scared of anything, really.

I felt shivers running down my spine. Something had hurt her badly but somehow she acted like she had overcome it. I knew all too well that her voice was much too neutral to be sincere. She was trying to convince herself that she was alright, that if she pretended not to be scared, nothing would hurt her anymore.

I guess darkness appeals to me. Or is it the other way around?

I remembered telling her that we all had a dark side and that maybe we were all bound to feel darkness at one point in our lives. I knew we were, yet I didn't say anything about some people needing that darkness in their lives. What I thought usually happened was that one bad experience made darkness come in and that depending on the way you treated it, it was more inclined to grow inside of you because suddenly, you didn't feel empty anymore. Then, this non-emptiness feeling transformed into a welcoming one. The darkness became home.

I wished I could stop thinking about that, about darkness and how itcould be needed. My mind liked torturing me about my way of life. Irefused to admit it most of the time, but the only home I felt I had was this dark part of me.

I was in such a bad state of mind. My band had given up on me -well, I had offered the opportunity to do so, but thing was that they did nothing to make me change my mind. I couldn't finish those songs I'd been working on, my job was boring and basically depressing. All in all, I felt like all I could do was drink.

I wasn't drunk, yet. Yes, it was two am, and yes I was in a stupid park, laying down to look at the stars. Yes, I had a bottle of vodka in-between my hands, resting on my chest. But it was almost untouched. There was this part of me telling me I couldn't get any lower, perhaps it was true, and so I shouldn't hold back. It didn't matter, not to my friends, not to my family, not to myself. But then, there was another part of me that told me that I could change, that I didn't have to drink to feel better. It didn't make sense to me why I could possibly think that. All I had ever done to feel better was drink, or punch things.

"I guess some things don't always have to make sense. Can I have some?"

I jumped in surprise, a little bit of vodka ending up on my T-shirt when I sat up, which caused me to curse out loud. This was a normal reaction since it was really late. Looking up, I felt my breath get caught in my throat. Kelsey.