coffee-house-large Goddamn, I can barely fight the sunlight as it forces my muddied eyes open. My eyes feel a tease of flames licking at them as I peel open the glued lids with my right hand. My eyes barely come into focus, still foggy. Damn I slept in my contacts again. Great, removing them won’t make the fog that looms within my eyes go away for at least an hour. Most of my attention though on my fucking head continuing to pound in rhythm to all the shitty music played last night. Even though my eyes are cloudy I can make out that I crashed on a couch and the living room almost looks like the scene in the movie “Kids” where all the dysfunctional youth get fucked up and crash everywhere in the living room. A scene of sorts of the massacre of addiction and youthful angst. Well, there are four of us only, including me. The other three are passed out on the floor attempting to share an ancient faded Scooby-Doo blanket. So ancient that the thread loomed into the edges of it has been ripped away in parts, it’s tattered insides hanging out in some areas.

My head begins to calm after a moment from the incessant pounding. The light glaring into my eyes and piercing my brain was surely the cause. My vision and temporary headache take me back to my near crash, near relapse from last night. I cannot believe I put myself into such a tempting, triggering position. Fuck, the smell, having it that close to my lips. What if subconsciously this was a challenge for myself? What if this was to test strength I feel I may have lost cause of my feelings, anxiety of losing control over the past couple of days fucked up happenings? Why is my mind screaming so many profanities this morning? Fuck it, gotta have one vice. At least cussing is a release of pain and struggle for me. Alcohol is my antagonist. Note to self: do not do this again, this trigger was completely avoidable, dumbass.

I’m still sitting here on this dilapidated couch with what I think should probably have cinder blocks wedged underneath it. The cinder blocks would definitely go with the ambience of the apartment. Man, what if Dee is still pissed at me? She usually doesn’t hold a grudge, but this situation is obviously different. She’s probably worried, at least a tiny bit. I kind of like the thought of her being worried. I like it cause she cares therefore she must love me. Ok, halt, have that last thought fade to fucking black or take an abrupt dive off an abyss where there is zero survival possibility. Deep breath………let’s get the fuck out of here. I don’t say goodbye to anyone. For one, they’re all asleep. Two, my leaving is my interpretive dance to never put myself into a situation like I had, a situation I have control over to avoid. The thought may be a little unrealistic but one I need for just this moment. Day by day I need to take it, many times, hour by hour. I have survived another day.

The only place right now I could think to even go where Dee may be already or at least show up at is this coffee shop, “The Straight Shot”. I always found it to be a blatant oxymoron for so many of “us” that frequented the establishment with a name like that. I sometimes wonder if that was the point. I’ve only been here about ten minutes and my ass is already starting to go numb from the hard faux wooden chair. Many places offer chairs that are hard like this in hopes that customers will only stay for a bit. A business tactic I believe to keep the conveyor belt of customers constantly moving. If you keep that assembly line going of the zombie consumer masses the more profit. That’s why I always wanted to visit one of those posh restaurants where you eat the food off of a beautiful woman’s body. Man, they want you to definitely stay and get comfortable there. The prices I’m sure are exorbitant, but I would think worth it for an atmosphere like that.

I only have a couple bucks on me so all I can really get is some hot lemon water. I almost think I am paying more for the rental of the damn mug. I’m gonna sip the beverage of which I have been raped of from my funds in hopes that Dee may show up soon. This has always been our place. Twat would join us on occasion when she wasn’t “busy” doing other things, chicks. It’s actually an amazing day out. Not one cloud in the sky. Quite symbolic of my near escape from last night. Now that I have made my peace with the sun goddess and my eyes have cleared somewhat, I welcome her presence. Just people watching for a minute. Humans really are quite the interesting animal. I bring the puke purple mug up to my lips. The lemon is a far superior aroma compared to the sting of Jack. Dee walks in as I begin to take a sip.

As I see her, my lips relax forgetting their purpose, the water dribbles down my chin and down the front of my shirt. Ok, a tiny bit embarrassing but that feeling quickly evaporates into the air when I look up and notice Dee has caught sight of my fumble and laughing at me. Everything is going to be ok. Some things though may be getting heavy for us soon. There is of course a case pending against me for the assault. I don’t want to think of that now. Even with the bruise upon her face, when she smiles, I’ve never seen brown hazel eyes like that before. Nobody could ever take the light from those eyes, and so few even see that it exists. We have been best friends for years now. We have been together through things that most can’t even imagine. I’m not exactly sure what it is that I am feeling. Should I tell her? Fuck that! I’m sure it is just that connection many individuals feel when they experience tragedy together.

She’s standing here in front of me now. Her eyes and body speak a language I only know. It beckons to me that she needs me. It takes only a second for me to rise to her and take her in my arms. I can feel her tears upon my neck.

Manic Expose Chapter 5

Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration

LGBTQ Nation

About PJ Secluded

Introspective writer working on first manuscript. Writer of original series, poems, musings of sorts and the occasional manic prose. My main blog is an original series seen through the eyes of the lesbian protagonist Burgess. With her brood of studs, they conquer fear and tragedy, embracing love and the experiences between close friends. I have been writing for just a little while now and found a true passion for it. I want to help others through my writing discussing sensitive issues that affect the LGBTQ community in a unique fashion


Burgess and the Brood, Lgbtq, Uncategorized, women


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