Mornings suck. Mornings that start off with an alarm clock, screaming in your ear, that it is exactly six-fifteen and, that if you sleep another minute, you will not have time to put clean cloths on or brush your teeth before half-running half-dying to school, especially suck. The only hope I have on mornings like this are that it is either a) snowing or b) warm and sunny. However, in Colorado, if you want the weather to do something, it won't. So instead, I walk to school in the freezing cold. Long drags of tobacco are taken in, mingling with half-dying breaths as I speed off in the sun-frozen morning that has decided to graciously over-stay its welcome.
He sucks. When he and I exit our houses at exactly the right time so that we collide on the way to school, "coughing" up a lung with his, oh-I-know-just-what-is-good-for-you smirk, and his over bearing criticism. I oft' want to punch him right in his mouth so he can't say another word, but do I? No, no I do not instead; I look at every imperfection on his flawless skin, despising his handsome crooked smile, grimacing at the warm accidental touch of our hands, and ignoring the knot that keeps tightening in my chest.
"Your beautiful" I imagine him saying, "You don't need those, they aren't the cure they promise to be. I love you.."
It sucks to hurt. It hurts to know he will never in a million years tell me those things. Instead he just stands there watching me light another one. Deep inhale, long exhale. That frown, if he doesn't like it he can suck it. It's not his body, what should he care what my innards look like? I don't nag at him for smoking pot all day! The knot gets tighter as he stares at me, perfect green orbs of swamp gas rendering me limp.
"You're…well… you're beautiful. Why do you do that to yourself? I've seen the way you get during class. It's sad, they control you. Your better than that, Why do it?" A sincere voice cuts through the air; struggling to form the right syllables, trying not to place too much on the table, yet still getting the point across.
"Cigarettes are better than razorblades, no?" He winces and flashes a look at my wrist. Anger boils under my skin as he guiltily lookes away.
"I suppose… It's just well… um… you see…" He can't look at me. He is focusing all of his energy on the snow covered pavement, willing it to melt away. Blood ringing in my ears, my heart sounds like a watch enveloped in cotton.
Silence sucks. Not knowing what will be said next, not knowing how to break the stagnant silence. I hold my breath, sucking in all the cold air, letting it force it's self against my lungs begging for a way out. We shifted our weight, waiting for him to finish his sentence. The ringing continued on, growing louder. His eyes flashing up to mine worry fills his eyes like the ringing in my ears. He shifts closer, and looks around. Impatiens fills me to the brink of madness. I drop the wasted cigarette, which has burned to the filter, and it gives off a satisfying sizzle. He inches forward, closing in on me. My heart pounds against my thick skin forcing my shell to crumble. His lips press against mine, sickening warmth drowns out the panic. His eyes flutter closed, my heart forces mine to do the same. He holds me sclose and I cannot refuse his offers.
"For every cigarette you ever need," he whispers, "I will give you a kiss. Please, stop killing yourself."
Deals suck. Deals that render you helpless and, give you no room for debate what the conditions are, though very little it said. Deals, that warm you from the inside, and keep you from hurting yourself and anyone else. Deals that are made between you and a person you hate. Deals that are made between you and a person you love. Deals you just cannot refuse.
"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! -tear up the planks! here, here! -It is the beating of [my] hideous heart!"
