change this title later amelia//jack x kai

*one*

The sharp wind stabbed through my thin body as thick mist hung round my shoulders. I raised the small glass bottle to my lips, the liquor burning the back of my throat on the way down. A smirk spread across my thin lips as i ran my long fingers through my wispy dyed hair. The bitter  taste and the burning sensation felt so familiar it almost tasted like home.I took a drag of my cigarette- feeling calmer almost immediately. The drugs started  lot later then most would expect- it was one of my "phases". A kinder name for my desperate attempts to suppress my feelings. It tasted like harmony. Maybe because i was only ever happy when i was high, or maybe because the mixture of burning alcohol and weed made a bittersweet combustion.  Although with the taste came old memories : memories tainted with guilt. The guilt chased me every where i went. It came slowly, at first i didn't feel it at all. and then it came in chunks. you know how it is. right when it happens your numb- you dont feel anything. and then you look back, and it hits you at once. that happened a month or so after i fled. I felt a pang of guilt one night. That very night i cried myself to sleep- i couldn't change anything. i was powerless against my own emotions. that when i started drinking. I did it to feel numb. If i couldn't feel m emotions they couldn't hurt me. right? Wrong. they still tore me up- they were ripping me apart from the inside i just couldn't feel anything. It was then when i realized that i didn't want t be numb, I wanted to feel again. Id always thought that there was nothing scarier than my own emotions. but there was- what was scarier was knowing that i was in pain and i was ignorant to it. You cant feel it but you know its happening. id lost the control i so desperately craved. Id lost all i ever wanted. Id threw it all away. he loved me and i threw it back in his face.. i snapped out of it when i felt the cigarette began  to burn my fingers. i dropped it down and snubbed it with my foot. my eyes drew away from that, however as they trained on the cliff side. i came here when i wanted to be alone- or when i wanted to be high. with a sigh i pulled out my decrepit old wallet pulling back the tattered plastic. i pulled out my little picture. the only thing from home that was still in great condition. i traced my finger across his pale cheeks. before i knew what was happening a fat tear slipped onto the paper. panic set in as the only thing i had left deteriorated. the picture fell apart just like i have.

thanks for reading,

amelia,